


Habits

by umhello



Series: The Stag and The Wolf [1]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: A lot of other shit, Angst, Comfort, Consensual Underage Sex, Cuddling, D/s elements, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Frottage, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Jealous Dutch, M/M, Masturbation, NO BIG FUCKING L. ARTHUR DESERVES BETTER, Nightmares, Praise Kink, Smut, Underage - Freeform, before Blackwater but setting is in The Heartlands, daddy Dutch and Hosea, slight Breeding Kink, teenage John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-15 12:24:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 11
Words: 25,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18073346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/umhello/pseuds/umhello
Summary: 16 year old John still wakes up from nightmares and longs to climb in bed with Arthur like he used to as a kid. little does he know how much Arthur wants the same thing.





	1. Habits

**Author's Note:**

> I have never ever in my entire life written fanfiction before but I write a lot of poetry as well as a few books that I abandon about halfway each time lmao. but I'm really gonna try here. all constructive criticism is allowed just please be nice :)  
> also enjoy! and I apologize for any mistakes, sometimes I get to wrapped up in writing all my ideas out and I forget to check for misspellings.

John lay awake in his tent, having his first nightmare in quite a while. It startled him more than anything. The boy rubbed at his neck lightly, checking that there was no rope there. He sniffled lightly and rubbed at his teary eyes, sighing quietly to himself as he sat up in his bedroll. The space beside his bedroll was once warm and occupied but now it remains empty and cold. Arthur had long since gotten his own tent, two years ago to be exact, but the teen can still remember what the broad silhouette of Arthur Morgan had looked like laying beside him in the dark. Arthur had complained to Dutch about the boys cold feet kicking him in his bare side in the middle of the night and Dutch had relented, sparing a few extra dollars from their camp fund to buy Arthur his very own tent, even buying him a cot to make it feel all the more like home. Claiming he was becoming a fine young man, now in his mid twenties, he needed his own space. Dutch seemed to agree. 

Ever since, John had missed the warmth that radiated from the other bedroll. He woke up from those nightmares much more often when he was younger. The feeling of that rope wringing tight around his throat felt all to real in his dreams. Arthur used to wake up to his quiet sobbing and pull him close, letting the boy slip into his bedroll and fall asleep on his chest. But that was all a long time ago. John was old enough now and smart enough to know that crawling into Arthur’s cot, sobbing like a baby, would surely grant him a punch to the face and a kick out the front flaps of the older man’s tent. Part of John knew that anyways, and part of him wondered what it would be like to curl up against the burly man once more. Arthur had filled out, his body taking on much more muscle than he had when he was younger and John longed to rest his head upon that strong chest and hear the steady beat of his heart that had once lulled him to sleep. Maybe. Just maybe he would let him. 

John sat there for a moment longer, biting his lip as he contemplated getting up. He eventually untucked himself from his bedroll, grabbing his wool blanket off the ground before he wrapped it around himself. He took a deep breath and stepped out of his tent, tip toeing over to Arthur’s. It wasn’t very far from his own but he did have to pass by Dutch and Hosea’s tent nonetheless and didn’t want to disturb either of them. John hesitated just outside, his hand mid reach for the flap of the tent. Taking another shaky breath, he pushed the flap open and stepped inside, the blanket hanging over his body, the bottom edge dragging across the powdery dirt behind him. He sniffled once more and then froze when Arthur shifted, moving on his other side to face him. He blearily looked around the space in front of him before his eyes landed on the boy. Arthur grunted softly and sat up on his elbows “Johnny?” he mumbled, barely forming the name. He looked closer, noticing the way his nose was tinted red and the tell tale signs of tear streaks trailed down his dirty cheeks. Arthur’s heart seized up at the sight, a frown creasing his face. John looked pitiful. Like a kicked puppy. More tears started to form in the boys eyes as he stared at the outlaw, whimpering quietly, staying true to the kicked puppy facade. “What’s the matter Marston?” he asked softly, his voice hardly above just a deep rumble in his chest. Instead of answering, John made his way over to Arthur’s cot and pushed back the blankets, climbing on top of the other man, dragging his own blanket with him. Arthur hissed at the feeling of John’s cold skin against his bare chest as the teen tucked his knees up to his body as much as he could, the wool blanket draping over the two of them. Arthur grunted as John moved around a bit, getting comfortable on top of his chest. Once John settled, his face pressed into Arthur’s neck to hide the blush creeping up his neck to his cheeks, tinting the tips of his ears. he closed his eyes and stayed there, unmoving, his heart hammering away in his chest. This is much farther than he thought he would get and he didn’t even have a single bruise to show for his efforts.

Arthur was fairing no better, he know he should at least show some effort into protesting the situation. But he didn’t. He laid stock still below the much smaller outlaw, not sure what else to do. He missed the feeling of John in his arms of course, but there was something else, something that caused warmth to spread throughout his body despite the cold fingers that rested on his chest. It burned low in his stomach and made his chest tighten. He knew that feeling and he knew it was dangerous. That feeling being the other cause of Arthur so suddenly deciding he needed to get out of John’s space, needed to get away from those long limbs that wrapped around him in the night. It was wrong and the gruff outlaw was all too familiar with that fact. But the feeling of him on his chest once more was much too inviting at the moment for Arthur to listen to his better judgement. So instead of telling John to get lost and head back to his own tent, he sighed and brought his arm up, wrapping it around John as he closed his eyes, letting the soft puffs of warm air against his neck lull him to sleep.


	2. Habits

Arthur woke up the next morning early as he always did. He opened his eyes and looked down at the black rats nest of hair that laid on his chest. He huffed softly in amusement and carefully maneuvered the teen down onto the cot as he stood, tucking him back into the blankets. Arthur knew that John was more than old enough now to no longer need Arthur to coddle him, as he has been told many times by John himself, but he couldn’t help himself. He had the urge to protect him and care for him at any cost. He let himself have the luxury to do so just this once and gently pushed the tangled raven hair off of John’s cheek. He caught himself staring way too long at the way the sunlight peeked through the flap of the tent and shone right onto his cheek, the way it warmed his skin in a soft golden glow. How the rays seemed to kiss his chapped lips ever so gently. Arthur cursed himself under his breath, forcing himself to look away from the sleeping boy. He pulled on his clothes, hat, and boots then looped his gun belt around himself and fastened it just the way he liked, sparing one last look at the younger outlaw before he made his was out of his tent. It would be at least another half hour before anyone else were to wake up so Arthur busied himself with lighting up the campfire and brewing the coffee, strong and black, just how everyone liked it. 

Sure enough, as he was finishing up his first cup of coffee, Dutch stepped out onto the wood planks just outside his and Hosea’s tent, cigar already in hand, dressed in his usual get up, hair slicked back and curling at the ends. Arthur headed over to him, a second mug in hand. “Mornin’ Arthur” he said with a warm voice, flashing a dazzling smile his way. Arthur couldn’t help but return the smile, handing the older man the steaming mug “g’mornin’ Dutch” he drawled, finishing up his own cup of coffee. He set out towards the horses, placing his empty mug down on a nearby table, picking up a hay bale along the way. He placed the bale down and moseyed around each of the horses, stroking their manes and patting their necks, lightly checking them over. He eventually made his way over to his beloved Boadicea. “Hey Bo” he smiled, scratching gently at her strong shoulder and chest. Boadicea let out a quiet whinny, nosing at arthur’s hair, knocking his hat onto the ground. He chuckled lightly and nuzzled her back, patting her neck lightly as he rested his forehead against hers for a moment. “How’s my girl?” he cooed. Boadicea responded in kind, nibbling on one of the rolled up sleeves of his blue shirt before she ducked down and pressed her nose to Arthur’s satchel, her hoof gently pawing the dirt. Arthur grinned “there’s no hiding sugar cubes from you, huh girl?” he reached into his satchel and fished out a couple of sugar cubes, feeding them to her from the palm of his hand. The mare knickers softly in gratitude, gently eating from Arthur’s palm. He smiles and picks up his hat, dusting it off and setting it back on top of his head as he steps away, moving over to The Count, who has been eyeing him the whole time. 

Arthur sighs and slowly makes his way over to him “I ain’t goin’ to try and ride you again boy, I done learned my lesson” he grumbles, recalling the one time, not so long ago, he had finally gotten Dutch to agree to him taking The Count out for a ride around the trails near camp. Only for Arthur to get bucked and thrown into the mud not even a second after he got mounted into the saddle. Dutch and John had laughed at him then, loud and open, until Hosea smacked Dutch’s arm and sent him and the lanky boy beside him a stern glare. Arthur had spent the rest of the day in his tent, his cheeks burning from embarrassment. He shakes his head at the memory and reached his hand out towards the horse. The Count looks unimpressed and leans down, nipping lighting at Arthur’s fingers. Arthur was quick to move his hand back “your horse is an ass!” he calls out to Dutch, who chuckles some ways behind him. The Count, as if hearing Arthur’s words, stomps his foot, growing impatient with the man. Arthur pulls out a peppermint and holds it out to him “Here. Your majesty” He mumbles as the white stallion takes the peppermint, lifting his head high and proud that he got what he wanted. 

Arthur headed back into the main camp area where everyone had started to wake up and get on with their day. Hosea was up and dressed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, newspaper in hand. “Hosea” Arthur greeted the elder as he walked past. Hosea hummed in acknowledgment, too wrapped up in whatever news story he was reading to engage further in a conversation. As Arthur walked past pearson’s wagon, on his way to chop wood, John emerged from the older man’s tent, his hair askew and one of Arthur’s shirts hanging loosely on his frame, haphazardly tucked into his threadbare jeans. The movement catching Dutch’s eye as he looked up from his book, giving John a once over before his gaze turned to Arthur who stood there like a deer caught in a hunter’s sight, staring at John. He hadn’t thought it through, seeing John come from his tent in the morning. He was sure it would turn some heads but the look Dutch was giving him sent him cowering and rushing quickly over to the stump where the ax laid. He didn’t dare turn around. He could feel the sweltering heat of Dutch’s gaze on his back, making him feel sweaty and his throat get tight. Arthur gripped the handle of the ax, his knuckles turning white. John, being none the wiser to the interaction of the other two, cheerfully said his good morning to Dutch and made his way over to the fire, snatching an apple from one of the barrels around Pearson’s wagon on his way. He sat down on a log facing the fire and bit into his apple, his eyes eventually landing on Arthur. Even with a shirt on, John could clearly see the way each muscle worked and flexed beneath the fabric with every swing of the ax. John’s face heated up and he quickly looked away, too afraid of getting caught staring. He finished up his apple and tossed the core into the fire. By now Arthur had finished chopping the wood and cathered it all up, carrying it over to the main fire. He set it down and neatly stacked them all for later use.

Pearson caught sight of the man and made his way over “Ah Mr. Morgan!” he says, trying to catch his attention. Arthur reluctantly looked his way “yes?” he sighs, already knowing about their food situation. “Running low on food. I really need you out there hunting and fishing.” Arthur groaned “I know. I know. I’ll head out now. Been busy” he huffs, standing and brushing the dirt from his knee. “You’re a good man Mr. Morgan. A good man indeed” he says happily, earning an eye roll from Arthur. “Yeah don’t I know that too” he smirks, heading for his tent to grab his bow. 

“Mr. Morgan!” came a female voice just as he made it to the opening of his tent. Arthur stopped and turned around in time to see Susan storming over to him, a look of annoyance playing at her wrinkled features “can’t you get this boy out of here for a while?” she asks, motioning over to John who had long since gotten bored at the fire and moved on to chasing around the chickens, disrupting them and causing dirt and dust to fly over to where Mrs. Grimshaw had been doing the laundry. “He is an absolute pest. I can not get any work done with him stomping around and kicking up all kinds of dirt. If you want your shirts patched up and blood free I suggest you take him out today. Boy’s been cooped up here way too long” she says, walking off without even giving Arthur time to respond. Arthur watched John for a moment, shaking his head. That boy was way too old for those kinds of games and he knew better than to get into trouble over such childish things. But still, sometimes there was no stopping him from causing mischief. 

Arthur retreated into his tent, returning with his fishing pole instead of his bow. John was a horrible shot with a bow and Arthur didn’t have the patience to teach him today. They needed food fast and as soon as they could get it. “Marston!” he called to him “grab your pole and mount up! We’re goin’ fishin’.” John groaned “I hate fishing” he says, grabbing his pole anyways. Arthur was already mounted on his mare, waiting for the other. John slipped a foot into the stirrup and heaved himself up and over Old Boy’s back, the horse still being a bit too tall for him to get up as easily as he should. He grabbed the reins with one hand, keeping his pole in the other as he gently spurred Old Boy into a trot, following behind Boadicea down a narrow path leading out and away from camp. Arthur glanced back, making sure the other was following him before turning back to the path ahead of them. He reached down, gently patting at his mare’s neck “good girl. You’re doing real good” Arthur praised her in a hushed and soothing voice. The older outlaw led them down to the Dakota, deciding this was as good of a place as any, close enough to home that he could still see everyone back at camp, but far enough away that he and John could get some much needed fresh air. Morgan gently pulled the reins back, leading Bo to a stop. He slid off the saddle and pulled his fishing pole from the clasps on his saddle as john dismounted Old Boy beside him. Arthur grabbed his lasso, tethering Old Boy’s reins to his own horse, using the lasso in between to give them more room between each other. He knew Boadicea would never go too far and John’s stallion was always keen to follow Bo anywhere she went. He lightly pat Bo’s hind quarters “go on girl. Go have fun. Keep him in check” he says to her. Bo whinnies happily and trots off towards a large patch of lavender, Old Boy following closely behind her. John smiles softly as he watches them go, not saying a word as he follows Arthur down to the edge of the river, fishing pole in hand. Arthur takes a mental note of his quietness all of a sudden, wondering what could have caused it. 

They each baited their hooks in silence and cast out into the water. John stood further away from Arthur than he usually would and the man looked over at him, slowly reeling in his line. “What’s eatin’ you kid? Y’seem all distant and off in your own head” he drawls, voice rough. John stares at the river “I ain’t a kid, Arthur” he grumbles “you know that” he adds. That earns him a laugh, a genuine one. It’s music to Johns’s ears even if it is at his own expense. “Coulda fooled me with the way you was acting today.” he states, shaking his head before scoffing “Chasin’ around those poor chickens all morning.” John turns to glare at him “Ain’t got nothin’ better to do!” he argues back. Arthur nods “oh sure, nothing at all. laundry don’t need to be done, horses don’t need feedin’, hell we don’t even need food. Starvin’ sounds just dandy don’t it Johnny Boy?” he quips back sarcastically. John throws his pole down with an angry huff “well maybe I’d be more willing to help if I didn’t have a goddamn bear snoring in my ear all night!” he shouts. Arthur chuckles “if I remember correctly, you’re the one who came cryin’ to me. You’re the one who climbed into my cot, not the other way around. Besides, you slept like a sack o’ potatoes and you know it” John stood there for a moment, feeling a little frustrated and flustered. He had been caught red handed. He really didn’t have any other argument. He had been the one to initiate the cuddling the night before and Arthur was right, once again, This thought angered the teen more and he reached down, splashing the cold river water at the older man beside him.

“Marston” his name came out as a growl, giving John a warning. The sound sent shivers down his spine and he decided to push his luck, splashing Arthur again. He regretted it soon after when Arthur calmly folded up his pole and slid it into his satchel before turning on him, stalking towards him. John swore Arthur was looking at him the same way a hungry wolf stares down a rabbit. He backed up quickly “A-Arthur… now wait just a s...second” he tripped over his own foot, what a damn fool, and fell back into the grass. Arthur advanced “If you’re going to act like a child then I will treat you like one” he says, sounding angry although there’s a little crack of a smile on his lips as he straddles John’s hips with his larger thighs, caging the teen in as he leans down, tickling his sides. John’s eyes widened, expecting to receive a broken nose and not a tickle fight. He laughed out loudly, his head thrown back as he tried to wiggle out of the other’s grip. Arthur chuckles, continuing his onslaught of tickles to his sides and stomach. John fought hard to get his bearings and once he did he pushed at Arthur’s chest hard, catching him off guard. Arthur moved back as john pushed him down, tackling the older into the grass. Their positions switched, John grabbed at Arthur’s arms, pinning them above his head. Morgan was stronger than him and he knew it, he could have easily pushed him off but he didn’t. He let John have his fun and take the upper hand. Grinning triumphantly, he reached down, giving Arthur a taste of his own medicine as he tickled along his ribs. Arthur laughed loudly along with John, fighting weakly against him until he decided it was enough and moved to get back on top. The two boys rolled around in the grass and dirt, wrestling each other, their original fishing expedition long forgotten. That is until Arthur had John pinned beneath him again, although this time their faces were flush and they were both breathing heavy, eyes locked on one another. Arthur was much closer this time, his body pressing down ever so slightly into the boy below him. John stared up at the man, searching his sea coloured irises, for what?, he isn’t sure. But he can’t help but hold the other’s gaze. His mind caught up with their position and his traitorous body started to take a liking to the situation. John could practically feel his blood rushing South. Arthur’s breath caught ever so slightly as he felt something hard start to grow against his hip, his own body getting excited. “Arthur!” came a loud booming voice from up on the hill where their camp lay. Arthur startled, scrambling to get off of John. he stood so quickly his head spun for a moment as he stared up at the hill. 

There stood Dutch, his arms folded across his chest and that same glare from this morning directed right at him “get up here son. Now!” He shouted. Arthur felt like a child being scolded for stealing candy. He looked towards John who was now standing up, dusting the dirt and grass from his clothes, avoiding his eyes. Arthur felt an overwhelming amount of shame and guilt boil up in the pit of his stomach. He knew it was wrong to look at his brother the way he did, to feel things for the teenager. He had tried to stop it, honestly he did, but the feelings kept coming back, night after night, day after day. He couldn’t keep the mangy kid out of his head. He whistled for his mount; Bo and Old boy trotting over seconds later. Arthur untethered the two horses and wrapped his lasso back up properly, securing it to the saddle clasps. He climbed up into his saddle and waited for John, neither of them daring to look at each other. John gripped the saddle horn and hauled himself up, holding his fishing pole in the other hand. They made their way back to camp, Arthur making it there first. He stepped down to the ground and hitched Boadicea to a post, his heart rate picking up as he headed for Dutch’s tent. Hosea giving him a sympathetic look when he passed. “Oh I really did it now” he muttered to himself under his breath. Dutch’s tent flaps were closed. That was never a good sign during the day. It always meant he was coiled up and ready to strike at whoever had tried his patience. Today, that lucky man was Arthur Morgan. Dutch’s loyal and trust worthy son. His pride and joy. Arthur swallowed his guilt, mentally scolding himself for acting out of place as he neared the tent. “Dutch...?” he asked softly, his voice wavering. He cleared his throat and tried again “you wanted to see me?” Arthur had barely finished his sentence before the tent flap was harshly pushed open.


	3. Habits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a bit of a short chapter because it is currently 4:22 AM and I have yet to get any sleep. oops. Alsoooo huge thank you to everyone leaving Kudos on my work. that means so much to me!
> 
> I will write more and add a few chapters tomorrow so stay tuned

Dutch greeted his son with a cold glare as he moved back, letting him into the tent. Arthur tentatively stepped inside, feeling a little crowded with how close Dutch was. The tent flap closes back behind him and the realization of how much trouble he was in started to sink in. Dutch took a seat on a chair in the corner of his living quarters. “Why don’t you have a seat, Arthur?” he says, putting emphasis on his name. his voice straining to stay calm and collected as he always was. Arthur stepped back some, the backs of his calves bumping into the edge of Dutch’s cot. He took a seat, staring down at his hands in his lap, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. “Look at me” he growled out and how could he refuse? He looked up at Dutch, chewing on his bottom lip, anxiety building within him. Dutch leaned in, gripping the younger man’s chin firmly, holding his gaze “Mind telling me why John was coming out of your tent this morning? Hm? And wearing your shirt?” Arthur took a deep, shaky breath, as Dutch’s thumb ghosted along his bottom lip, pulling it gently away from his teeth. Somehow being around the older man always made Arthur feel small even if he was more fit and slightly taller than his ‘father’. Morgan’s cheeks _burned_ , the redness spreading to the tips of his ears. He dreaded this conversation and desperately wished he could go back to Dutch showering him with praise and love, letting Arthur know how much he meant to the older man. “I-I…” he swallows, his throat dry and tight. “He had another nightmare, came to me for some comfort is all. I guess he didn’t want to wear one of his own shirts. Maybe they’re all dirty?” he managed out between shaky breaths. Dutch only hummed, searching deeper into Arthur’s expression “And down by the river? What was that exactly?” The question demanded an answer. “jus’ playin’ around. It weren’t nothing Dutch I swear. We was just wrestling like we used to” his voice now at a whisper. Dutch relented, letting go of Arthur’s chin “He is still a young boy. Still a child. Arthur. Do not make me remind you of that again” he says finally. Arthur nodded quickly “Yes sir. I swear it weren’t nothing. You won’t have to tell me again” he says, leaving the tent as fast as he dared. 

As soon as he was out he headed straight for Bo, practically throwing himself into the saddle. With a few clicks of his tongue he was off down a path at a fast trot. He needed to get away from his embarrassments and they still needed food anyways. Arthur had left in such a hurry he missed the longing, sad puppy dog eyes Marston was staring at him with from across the camp. Arthur reached up to adjust his hat only to find it missing, his honey coloured hair blowing freely in the slight breeze “shit shit shit” he hissed and yanked a little too hard on Bo’s reins in a panic, turning her sharply back towards the Dakota. She gave a sound of protest as she was forced to turn around, picking up speed towards the river once more. The hat had belonged to Arthur’s father. The horrible snake that he was, but Arthur kept his hat anyways. As a reminder to never become the person his real father was or as a memento of his long lost family, he was not sure which, but it did not matter to him. The hat meant something and it was gone. He frantically looked around as he neared the river, slowing his mare to a walk as he observed the grass, dirt, shoreline, anywhere and everywhere his hat could possibly be. But no luck. “This is just perfect. What a great fuckin’ day” he grumbled, turning Bo back onto their original path out into the open plains of The Heartlands.

A scowl settled onto Arthur’s face the whole time he hunted. He managed to shoot two good sized deer and a rabbit. Loading one deer behind the saddle and the other one into the seat of it, tying them both down before he attached the rabbit. It would be plenty to last for a while. Content with the day’s hunt, Arthur lead Bo to the edge of a small plateau overlooking the plains below them. He dropped her reins, letting her graze in the small tufts of grass that littered the dry ground. He plopped down on a rock, pulling his journal and a pencil from his satchel. He looked out at the horizon, bathing in the brilliant hues of the sunset. The bright red suffocating the orange that slowly bleeds into the yellow sun. Arthur takes a deep breath, closing his eyes as he feels the wind rustle his hair, making the grass dance in its current. He opens his eyes once more, pressing the his pencil to paper before he writes:

 

You fool Morgan, you goddamn fool. Once again here you are making a mess of your feelings and sticking your nose in places it should never be. 

Arthur pauses, sighing as he moves down the page a little ways and writes something else.

You saw the way he looked at you, you felt him against you. Maybe he wants this too? Maybe it was just his teenage mind too addled with hormones to do anything else but act that way. It is best to leave it and not find out...maybe...

Beneath the writing, Arthur carefully writes out John’s name in his best cursive handwriting, feeling like a lovesick fool. He paused at the word. Lovesick… A scoff left his mouth before he was aware of it. Love? No he didn’t love John. Possibly as much as an older brother should love his mischievous, pain in the ass, no good...soft eyed...sweet...annoying little brother, yes. But other than that, John was nothing more than a nuisance. At least that’s what Arthur was going to tell himself anyways. Arthur put away his things, deciding it was time to head back home. It was dark enough now he hoped he could slip into camp and put the game near Pearson’s wagon without being noticed. He pat Boadicea’s neck “c’mon girl.” The mare followed immediately, falling into step beside the man as they walked the short distance back home together. 

Once they arrived, Arthur hitched her up, carrying one deer then the other to the chuckwagon, placing them down gently before he removed the rabbit and set it on the chopping table. He moved back over to his horse, loosening and undoing the straps of her saddle before he lifted it off, unaware of the brown eyes trained on his backside as he did so. “There girl. Rest up” he says as she walks away, headed for the hay bale he had set out earlier that morning. Arthur watches for a moment before he steps away towards his tent, carrying his saddle. He sets it over one of the hitching posts near his tent and grabs a bottle of beer from a crate on one of the tables, popping the lid off with the help of his knife. He sheathes the knife once more and takes a long drink from the bottle, humming in contentment. A drop of beer slowly sliding down his chin and along his adams apple. The eyes that were recently watching him hitch up Bo, were now trained on the droplet. Arthur lowered the bottle, looking over at the campfire as he reached up to wipe his mouth, his eyes meeting John’s intense stare. They both stayed there, staring, until John blushed so dark Arthur could have sworn it wasn’t just the flames of the campfire playing tricks on him and looked away. The older outlaw stood there for a moment longer before making his way into his own tent. 

As he stripped out of his clothes and pulled on his union suit,he noticed a piece of paper on the table beside his cot. Arthur pulled a box of matches from his pocket, lighting one off the box before he lit the lantern in his tent. His eyes widened at the sight. There it was, his missing hat, dirt free and neatly sitting next to the folded up paper. He walked over, running his fingers idly along the brim of his hat. He reached for the paper, unfolding it to reveal the chicken scratch handwriting 

You forgot this out by the river. Must have fallen off then you tackled me or somethin’. I know you’d be lost without it

\- JM

Arthur smiled softly to himself, picking up his discarded blue shirt so he could tuck the note into the breast pocket. He looked over at his hat once more, relief, and something else he couldn’t put a name to, washing over him.


	4. Habits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little bit of some NSFW content. just a tiny bit :)

Arthur jolted awake, a sound disturbing him from his sleep. it was still dark in his tent, meaning the morning sun had yet to great the horizon. He sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes when he heard it again, a quiet shuffling noise, followed by something that sounded like a voice, hushed and quick. Arthur reached underneath him, pulling his Cattleman Revolver out from underneath his pillow.

As he was moving to get out of his cot, the person made themselves known by stumbling into his tent, almost landing face first in the dirt at Arthur’s feet. The man grunts as he recognized the wobbly figure before him “What in the hell you doin’ John?” he rushed out, setting his revolver back where it was before. John stared at him, taking a shaky step forward “‘m here for bed. To...to sleep. S’ lets do that then.” he slurred, giving the man before him a grin as he slowly moved forward to the cot, attempting to push Arthur back where he was. “Now wait just a damn minute” he grabbed the teens wrists and looked up at him, confusion written all over his face “How many have you had?” the question only earns him a shrug of his shoulders “my tent is real cold ‘n I left my blanket here. Want you t’ hold me again anyways” the few beers he probably had already making him loose lipped and bolder than he should be. “Christ” arthur mumbled under his breath, moving John back slightly before he stands “C’mon back to bed before you fall over” he wrapped his arm around the other so he would have some support, hauling him out of his tent.   
John took the arm around his body as an invitation to go limp, expecting Arthur to carry him. Arthur hoisted him up closer to his body, before giving in and lifting him up fully, carrying the teen back to his own tent, halfway back to his tent he heard a soft snore come from the boy in his arms. He moved into John’s tent where he gently laid him down in his bedroll, discovering that John had indeed fallen asleep. Arthur left and returned with the forgotten blanket, carefully laying it over the smaller body below him. John stirred a little, reaching out to grab ahold of the pant leg to Arthur’s grey union suit. “Stay…” he mumbled, his voice riddled with sleep and drink, barely understandable. 

Arthur stood there for a moment, weighing his options. Dutch’s words played over and over in his head but somehow he couldn’t say no to such a simple request. Stay. That’s all he had to do. Just stay with John to make sure the dumbass wouldn’t drunkenly wander out of his tent and get lost in the woods somewhere. Yeah, that’s all he was doing. Protecting his brother. The way he should be. Arthur made up his mind and settled down beside John, laying in the dirt, an arm behind his head, not wanting to leave John long enough to go back to his tent and retrieve his bedroll. 

John scooted closer to the warmth that had settled down beside him, lazily throwing some of the blanket towards Arthur as he nuzzled up against his side, long legs splayed around one of the older mans. He was asleep almost immediately while his companion laid there, not daring to close his eyes, too afraid that he would fall asleep and not be able to wake up in time to sneak back out to his own tent before Dutch were to wake up. 

The next morning John awoke, his head pounding, his body laying half in the dirt and half in his bedroll. He sat up, groaning softly, scratching at the barely there stubble on his jaw, thinking back to the previous night. He remembered Arthur being there and looked over, finding the space beside him empty. His heart sank a little with the realization but he knew better. He had heard the anger in their leader’s voice, he knew Arthur had gotten in trouble because of him and here he was, acting like a dumbass and getting his feelings hurt all because Arthur hadn’t stayed. John was old enough to know what they were doing was not favoured but still young enough that the blame would not be put on him. It would be put on Arthur, who was expected to be a picture perfect role model, the very definition of an outlaw, one that does not lust after boys and one that certainly does not spend all day picking flowers in a field. But here John was, replaying the memory of Arthur doing that very thing a few months ago, bundles of flowers in each hand and a wide grin spread across his face as he sketched each and every one in his journal. And here John was, wondering if Arthur had wanted what he did. If they shared the same feelings. The Van Der Linde gang knew Arthur had a soft side, even Dutch knew. He did not mind as much as long as when the time came, Arthur had on his hard exterior and cold as ice look in his eyes that so easily intimidated anyone into doing anything he told them to.

Warmth settled low in John’s stomach as he thought about the way Arthur carried himself, the way his voice was nothing more than a deep growl when he was intimidating someone. It sent shivers coursing through John’s body, his head spinning at the thought of that stare trained on himself instead of some stranger. John could easily picture the way Arthur’s hands grabbed onto a man once, how his thick fingers had curled tightly around the man’s throat, how Arthur had leaned close, his breath hitting the man’s face as he pressed the stranger into a wall behind the Valentine saloon, muttering threats and promises of broken bones if he did not get what he wanted. John had wish it were him in that position instead. Being the one held down against the wall, Arthur’s hands on him, even if those weathered hands were choking the life from him. It didn’t matter to John. He just wanted to feel him. Feel his muscles flexing against his own smaller body the way that stranger surely had. Jealousy. He recognized that new feeling to be. 

John pushed his jealousy aside and slid his hand down, letting it ghost over the bulge pressing and straining against the confines of his union suit. He let out a breathy sigh of relief, gently palming himself through the thin material. John quickly grew impatient and undid the top buttons of his suit, pushing it down and off his arms until it bunched around his upper thighs, his member leaking a bead of precum onto the sparse hairs below his belly button. He gripped himself loosely, pumping himself a few times, biting back his moans so no one would hear him. Outside of his tent he could hear the others saying their good mornings and moving about the camp. John slid his thumb across his slit, smearing the liquid across his head and down his shaft. This wasn’t the first time he had done this and it certainly wasn’t the first time his mind had wandered to that devilishly handsome cowboy. John closed his eyes, bringing his other hand to his lips, sucking his middle finger into his mouth, licking along the side of it, wetting it. He moved his hand down between his now spread legs, his union suit being pushed down to his ankles. A thin finger pressed at his hole, tracing his entrance while his other hand continued working at his cock.

John thought about what it would feel like to have Arthur between his legs instead, his beard scratching his sensitive thighs as he left wet kisses along them, his rough hands gliding along his body, a thick finger pressing into him ever so slowly. John’s fingers, in no way, could compare to the other man’s. They weren’t enough. He needed more. He needed him. He needed Arthur muttering praise against his skin as he worked him open- John whined, he had barely gotten a knuckle into himself before he tensed up, his back arching as he came, thick ropes landing on his knuckles and stomach, a string of quiet curses and shuddering moans spilling from his lips as he came down from his high. His hand slowed and he removed his finger from himself, panting softly. He stayed there for a while longer, letting his mind and body cool down before sitting up, grabbing the shirt closest to him, Arthur’s shirt he had taken the other day, and wiped himself clean, tossing the shirt aside, not registering who it had belonged to. 

The teen got dressed and made his way out of his tent, avoiding Arthur’s eyes every chance he could for the remainder of the day, Arthur seemed to be doing the same. This fact troubled John. Had Arthur somehow heard him in his tent that morning? Had he slipped up and said something he shouldn’t have? John thought about it long and hard before it dawned on him that he couldn’t remember much else of the drunken night before, other than the fact that arthur had fallen asleep in HIS tent this time. John swallowed thickly, the notion that he had no idea what he had done was eating him up. He must have made at utter fool of himself. 

Arthur was soon sent out on a job, leaving John to his own thoughts and devices. The rest of the day passed quickly and soon it was midnight and he had retreated into his tent, pacing around anxiously. He needed to know what he did. Needed to apologize, beg for his forgiveness. Arthur had yet to return but not a minute later he could hear the distant sound of hooves moving closer to camp. The teen paced faster, his palms sweaty. He heard the jingling of spurs passing his tent, watching as the silhouette of Arthur Morgan move through the camp and to his own tent. John waited a minute. And then two. And then three, his nerves getting the better of him.

He counted to ten and then left the comfort of his own living space, headed for the other’s. John burst through the tent flaps with a vote of confidence. That confidence shattering like glass as he was greeted with the image of a very toned chest, a very confused Arthur, and a very, very low hanging union suit resting loosely on the man's’ hips. John’s mouth ran dry, all words forgotten, as his gaze traveled down the broad chest, lower and lower, following the V of his hips, the trail of light brown hair leading down into his union suit. He gawked at the man before him, jaw slack and mouth open slightly. He had seen Arthur naked before, plenty of times when he was younger. Privacy was a luxury that none of them had. But seeing him here and now, John realized how long it’s really been since he had seen Arthur like this, standing open, where the teen could get a good look and every curve of muscle, every scar that littered his body. 

“Marston?’’ his voice interrupted his thoughts and he quickly snapped his mouth shut, rubbing at the back of his neck as he looked down at his feet, his cheeks warming. “I uh, I needed to talk to you. I can...come back later. ‘M sorry. Didn’t mean to walk in on ya like that” he said softly, afraid that if he spoke any louder Arthur would hear the quiver of his voice. “It’s alright, I don’t mind. What is it you need to talk about?” he asks then, doing up a few more buttons of his union suit, making sure it covered more of himself. He sat on the cot, patting the spot beside him. 

John hesitated before making his way over, sitting down beside the man. “Did I do something?” he started “last night? O-or today? You’ve been avoiding me all day and I‘m really sorry for whatever it is that I did. I don’t remember anything from last night other than falling asleep with you. Did we…did I..” he rambled on until he found himself at a loss for words. Arthur looked down at his lap, shaking his head. “No uh.. You didn’t do anything Johnny. Just stumbled in here going on about me holding you while we slept or somethin’ like that. I stayed with you like you asked” he looked up then, gently patting John’s thigh, trying to comfort him. John looked up at him “then why have you been avoiding me?” he whispered. Arthur sighed “it’s nothing kid. You’re too young to get it” he says, knowing damn well that wasn’t the truth. John, however, was having none of it “i ain’t some goddamn child, Morgan.” he spat. “Tell that to Dutch then” Arthur muttered, sighing softly. “What?” John tilted his head, his expression softening. “I don’t know… he thinks you’re a child and this is all wrong. He- well he thinks I’m being sweet on you.” 

“Are you?” John asks, a bit of his confidence resurfacing. Arthur chuckles at that, shaking his head. “No. ‘Course not” he lies. Johns breath caught in his throat “Oh..yeah I know I was just makin’ sure you’re right in the head and all that” his voice cracking slightly as he fights back the tears in the corner of his eyes. he clears his throat and stands “I best be getting to sleep then. G’night” he starts for the tent opening before a hand catches his arm “That don’t mean I ain’t open to some extra warmth now and again. Gotta share body heat with it getting colder.” the cowboy’s voice dropping a bit lower. John turned back around, searching Arthur’s face before he nods “yeah. You’re right” he agrees. The two of them settled back onto Arthur’s bed, the cot groaning and creaking with the added weight. The two of them had a lot of thinking to do.


	5. Habits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to change up the formatting of my writing to hopefully give you guys longer chapters and more details and just make it better overall.

The next few nights where the same, John would wait until everyone had gone to bed before he would tip toe over to Arthur’s space, slipping inside silently. They would cuddle up to each other, an unspoken _habit_. With each passing night they got bolder, braver, more curious. John had started wearing Arthur’s shirts to bed, pairing it with a pair of short union suit bottoms. 

The way his shirts would hang from John’s thin body drove him _wild_.

How the sleeves were too long for his arms and John would look up at him with soft pleading eyes, silently asking him to roll the sleeves for him. Arthur, of course, was always happy to oblige, his fingers working to roll the sleeves once, twice, three times for good measure. 

The way the baggy shirt would hide John’s curved womanly hips but Arthur could feel the shape of him as they laid together on the small cot. 

_Oh_ could Arthur feel him. 

He would often slide his warm hands up underneath the fabric of the shirt, tentatively caressing John’s skin, feeling along the span of his back. His fingers twitching as they made contact with the soft skin of John’s hips, sliding along the dip, gliding a palm over his thigh and then back up again. 

John would busy himself with tracing his nimble fingers across Arthur’s collarbones, lightly feeling over the knicks and scars that scattered along his broad chest and shoulders. Feeling pleasantly _sated_ and _happy_ in the other’s arms

They would fall asleep like that, limbs tangling, warmth radiating from the two men.

Arthur would wake alone every morning, John back in his own tent after he had crept out in the early hours of the morning before the sun had awaken. Keeping the little secret to themselves.

 

Arthur woke up, keeping his eyes closed as he listened to the birds, the leaves rustling in the trees as a breeze blew through. The sun radiated off his skin, its rays seeping through the flaps of his tent as they swayed open with the wind. He opened his eyes, rubbing the sleep from them. He laid in his cot for a moment longer, basking in the sunlight.

Finally pushing his blankets aside, willing himself to get up and start the day.

Arthur was dressed and out by the main campfire in a matter of minutes. Once the fire was stoked and the coffee was brewing, he set on starting his normal routine, the horses were checked over and fed, the camp’s dirty washing water dumped out and refilled with fresh, clear water. 

By the time that was done, everyone else was awake. Arthur passed by Hosea, catching a glimpse of the intricate cursive writing on the paper he was holding. 

“Whatcha got there old man?”

He pulls up one of the empty crates, taking a seat beside his father at the table, peeing over at the map. Hosea scoffs at the name, spreading the map out onto the table in front of them, giving his son a better view 

“A map. Legendary animals and where to hunt them. Certainly no longer a task for an ‘old man’.“ he smirks, letting out a wheezy chuckle, pushing the map towards Arthur “a pelt from one of these animals will go for a pretty penny” he explains

Arthur looks intrigued, scanning his eyes over the little drawings of each animal in their prefered habitat. 

“Spotted an elk as white as snow up near Ambarino. Might be worth a look. See if you can track him down?” he nods towards the map “keep that with you. Could be useful” he smiles warmly, patting Arthur’s shoulder gently as he stands, walking away. 

Arthur neatly rolls up the map, careful not to wrinkle it. He heads off towards their leader’s tent to Inform him of his plan to hunt down the elk. Dutch was sat in his folding chair underneath the side awning of his tent, his nose in a book. _The American Inferno._

Clearing his throat as he leaned against one of the awnings’ support beams. Dutch looked up from his page “yes?” 

“I’m headin’ out for a few days. Hosea gave me some map of animals. Mentioned a sort of ‘legendary’ white pelted elk. Thought that pelt would bring in a decent amount of money”

Dutch thought it over, nodding his approval “on your way back, stop by the station in Valentine and pick up the mail for me?” he paused, Arthur taking that as his que to leave. “And son, take John with you. Teach him how to use that bow. It’s about time he learned.” 

Arthur lazily saluted him as he walked away “You got it Dutch” he drawled, heading for his tent to gather supplies for the trip.

It was early afternoon by the time arthur had Boadicea saddled up, his bedroll and small tent strapped into its place. He walked over to Pearson’s wagon, grabbing a few apples and a couple cans of strawberries that he stuffed into his satchel

“You goin’ somewhere?” came a voice from behind him

Arthur nodded as he turned around to meet the teen “yeah and you’re coming with. Hosea wants me to hunt down a rare elk and Dutch wants me to teach you how to use a bow properly.” he tossed one of the cans towards John who caught it. “We’ll be gone a few days. Also gotta pick up the mail on the way back”

John tried to hide his excitement, butterflies fluttering around in his stomach at the thought of spending a few days out with Arthur. Alone. Just the two of them. It made him feel giddy. 

“Alright. I’ll get packed” John heads off towards his tent, packing up his bedroll and a light coat. He loads his things onto the back of Old Boy, stuffing the can of strawberries Arthur had given him into one of his saddle bags.

Arthur nodded towards John “C’mon boy, let’s get goin’” he grabs the saddle horn and hauls himself up into Bo’s saddle as John gets seated on his own mount. Bo was led into a trot out of camp, following the winding pathway out onto a main road, John trailing close behind

“Where we headed?” his voice raised above the steady thumping of hooves 

“Ambarino. We’ll make it up north by tonight, make camp near the Cumberland Forest before we set out hunting tomorrow” 

John moved up beside Arthur once the trail widened enough to. They sat in comfortable silence as they passed valentine, heading further up north. Arthur slowed Bo to a walk, peering over at the ground to get a better look at the delicate prints in the road that led off towards a clearing, a few trees scattered around the area. 

Arthur hopped off of his mare, leading her off the trail, unsheathing is bow and a few arrows from the side of her saddle, John watching him curiously. The cowboy looked towards him expectantly, an eyebrow raised “C’mere” he whispered when the boy made no move to come towards him. 

John dismounted and made his way towards the man “wha-” he was cut of by a hand over his mouth, being drug down into a crouching position alongside the man, Arthur suddenly so _close_ to the boy’s face, keeping him quiet. John swallowed thickly, his body tensing. John’s eyes locked with his for a second and then followed the other’s gaze as it moved back to the scenery in front of them. There, in the clearing, a beautiful black-tailed jackrabbit, grazing on a thistle. 

Arthur removed his hand and thrust the bow into John’s chest. John took the bow and an arrow, loading the arrow onto the shelf of the bow, attaching it to the nocking point. He took a shaky breath and raised the bow, he could practically feel the eyes on him, watching his every move, making him nervous. 

“Same as with a gun. Aim, inhale, check your alignment, exhale, shoot” The cowboy’s voice dropped a few octaves, keeping it at a whisper right in John’s ear. He leaned in closer, his cheek barely pressing to John’s to get a better view of where he was aiming. The smaller man’s senses were spiked, overwhelmed, keenly aware of the smell of whiskey on the man’s breath, the subtle scratch of the outlaw’s beard against his own lightly stubbled cheek, the feeling of a strong arm being brought around his back, one of those marvelous, calloused hands, wrapping around his arm, lifting it into a better position. 

And then it was gone, the warmth removed from his back, the familiar smell of herbs, whiskey, and smoke. A smell that was so very _Arthur_. Dissipated as it it were never there. As if Arthur wasn’t just pressed against his cheek. It was all gone as the man pulled away, leaving John dizzy and trying to catch up with what he was supposed to be doing.

He kept his arms steady, aiming at the rabbit’s head. 

_Inhale, exhale, shoot_

The rabbit went down, the arrow piercing through its shoulder.

Arthur clapped him on the shoulder, his face broke out into a grin, his eyes wrinkling at the corners “That’s real good Marston! Good job!” 

John’s face lit up, his cheeks tinted pink and something stirring low in his stomach at the praise. He quickly stood, clearing his throat, looking away to hide his face, but not before the other had caught a glimpse at the way he reacted, taking a mental note of it.

“Well go on, go get ‘em. And bring that arrow back, I’m running out”

John fetched the rabbit and the arrow, bringing it back to where Arthur was standing, knife in hand. “Now lemme show you somethin’. watch closely.” he took the rabbit from John and held it by its hind legs, cutting a slit down its stomach. He sheathed the knife and gripped the rabbits tail tightly, pulling down, the skin peeling almost effortlessly from the rabbits body. 

“Got it? You’ll do the next one.” he says, John making a face at the sound it had made “uh yeah… got it” he rasped. 

The two cowboys continued into the field a ways, leaving the horses to graze a few feet from the trail. Arthur spotted another rabbit, taking aim with his bow.

exhaling as he let the arrow fly. A clean shot right through the eye.

John brought the rabbit back, taking Arthur’s engraved hunting knife when it was handed to him, giving the man his arrow. John cut through the skin on its stomach just as Arthur had, gripping the tail afterwards “like...like this?” he asks, earning a nod. He squeezed his eyes shut and pulled down hard. The pelt tore away roughly, ripping in a couple places. 

The couple pats on the back he received were enough to bring a smile to his face as he handed the rabbit and pelt over to Arthur. 

“I figure that’s enough for today and tomorrow. Let’s find a spot to make camp”

They make the short walk back to the horses, Arthur strapping the rabbits to the side of his saddle, tucking the pelts into one of his saddlebags before he mounts up, John doing the same. 

The two of them rode up North about a half hour further before Arthur veered them off into the trees, following the sound of running water, stumbling upon a brook that trickled down into a crystal clear pond. 

A small camp was set up not far from the pond on a little patch of dirt, tufts of grass speckling the clearing. Arthur made quick work of gathering wood and producing a fire for them while John set up Arthur’s tent, laying their two bedrolls on the ground side by side in the tent.

He joined Arthur by the fire, sitting a few feet from him. Morgan cut the meat off the rabbits and grilled them, pulling a bottle of Kentucky Bourbon from his satchel, popping the cork. He slowly nursed the bottle while grilling their dinner, well aware of the brown eyes watching his every move. 

John looked away and got up, moving over to the horses, coming back to the fire with their two cans of strawberries. He sat closer than before, Arthur noticed. 

They ate in silence once the rabbit was done cooking, finishing up dinner with their strawberries. 

John snatched the bottle of Bourbon from Arthur, taking a swig, trying not to linger on the thought that Arthur’s lips had just been where his were.

A deep chuckle interrupted his thoughts before he got carried away “Easy there Johnny. Drink any more and you’ll be confessing all kinds of sins to me” he teased. A glare was sent his way as John wiped his mouth and handed the bottle back, muttering something under his breath.

Arthur smirked, knowing he got a rise out of the kid. 

The boys mind wandered back to his previous thoughts. The smooth looking lips of Arthur Morgan. Pink and full and _so very close_ to his own when he had his cheek pressed against the other. John wondered what it would be like to kiss the other man, feel those lips against his own chapped ones. Would Arthur be gentle with him? Would he taste as good as he smelled?

“What’s it like to kiss someone?” he blurted out before he could stop himself

Arthur paused, bottle halfway to his lips. He set it down once more, looking over at the teen.

“Why?”

John messed with the bottom button on his shirt, twisting it some, the threads holding it to his shirt running a little loose “Just thinkin’ is all.” a pause before a response was given “Careful now, don’t hurt yourself” the older man joked. When he didn’t receive any type of reaction from the teen, he looked over at him

John stared at the fire, chewing on his lip, staying silent 

“ ‘M sorry John. I didn’t mean nothin’ by it” he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck “It’s nice. Feels good. Makes you feel...warm, grounded.” He groans “Hell I don’t know.” he grumbled, picking up the bottle again to distract himself, feeling a little uncomfortable. 

John’s next words came out quickly, breathlessly, as he moved closer to the cowboy

“Show me”

Arthur practically choked on the Bourbon, his eyes wide as he stared at the boy “What?” he coughed out.

“Kiss me. Show me what it feels like” his voice softer than before “please?” he reached out, taking the bottle from the man, their hands brushing against one another. 

Arthur licked his lips, his eyes flickering down to John’s “I…” he shook his head, meeting his eyes again “No, I can’t do that it’s not my place. It’s wrong. Dutch said-”

“Forget what Dutch said. It’s not fair Arthur! I’m old enough to go out robbing with you guys, shoot up half a town for a job but I’m still not old enough to decide who I want to be kissing?” he didn’t care if he was sounding desperate. He knew damn well he and Arthur had been dancing around each other long enough and he was ready to put an end to it.

“Please.. I’ll beg if I have to!” John said. Now _there’s_ an idea, Arthur thought to himself, deciding he’d look more into that later, the younger man’s words interrupting his thoughts “I want this. I want...I want you” 

Arthur hesitated, looking into John’s eyes. Maybe he was tricking him? Getting him to agree to a kiss just so he could laugh in his face, tell the whole gang what a nancy he was.

The soft look in his eyes told him otherwise. 

Arthur gave a weak nod, reaching up to gently cup John’s cheek, the younger cowboy’s breath catching as he leaned close, John’s eyes fluttered closed, leaning into him. 

Soft lips brushed against his and John decided he couldn’t wait any longer, he smushed his lips to Arthur’s, grabbing desperately at the front of the man’s shirt. 

It was all too much tongue and misplaced lips, rough bites and teeth clattering

Arthur grunted, shoving a bit at the younger’s chest to get him to pull away. John looked startled, his lips red and swollen as he stared at him. 

“Jesus boy. Settle down. Coulda sworn you was tryin’ to eat me ‘n not kiss me” he drawled, shaking his head.

John was offended at first before realizing how awful it must have felt for a professional like Arthur to kiss him. He opened his mouth to say something but Arthur beat him to it, seemingly reading his mind. 

“Don’t you apologize. It wasn’t so bad. Jus’ c’mere and sit here all pretty like and let me lead this time”  
Arthur moved his hand back where it was on his cheek, pulling him in close once more. He pressed his lips to the smaller man’s. 

John felt like he was floating and the world fell away. It was slow and soft. John relished in the feeling of Arthur slowly gliding his tongue along his bottom lip. John let out a quiet whimper against him, parting his lips, letting the man inside.

Arthur tasted John, licking slowly inside his mouth. he hummed, the boy tasted of those sweet strawberries and like honey. It was too much. He reached his hand down to John’s hip, slowly pulling him to straddle his lap. He moved willingly, settling down against the cowboy as if he belonged there. As if Arthur’s lap was there just for him; and it was as far as the two of them were concerned. 

Long arms wrapped tight around Arthur’s neck, keeping him close as they kissed, committing each others mouths to memory. Arthur broke away first, needing to breathe. Their breaths mingling between them. John looked up at the other man, his lips glistening in the moonlight. 

Arthur knew he was getting carried away, knew he should stop. But he couldn’t. He had gotten his taste and now he needed more. Needed all of him. Craved him. 

He leaned in again, capturing his lips in a searing kiss, pulling the younger mans smaller frame as close as he could to his own body. John kissed back eagerly and a bit sloppily. A nip to his bottom lip earned him a soft moan. Arthur decided he needed to hear it again. See what other sounds he could pull from him.

Arthur made his way down from his lips, licking and nibbling along his jaw. John happily tilted his head back to give the man more room to work, his fingers curling into a fist, gripping the soft honey coloured hair at the nape of Arthur’s neck, giving a slight tug. 

A deep rumble was elicited from the man below him, sending chills up John’s spine. 

Arthur mouthed at John’s throat, sucking lightly before he trailed kisses along the side of his neck and up to that sensitive spot just below his ear. John sucked in a breath, pulling a bit harder at the man’s hair as he bit down, sucking roughly at the patch of skin there.

He should stop. Pull away from him and tell him that Dutch was right and this is wrong for them to be doing. But John had a point, he was old enough to decide for himself what he wanted and who he wanted. And if _who_ he wanted was Arthur? Well, how could he refuse such a tantalizing offer?

 

Arthur was lost in the moment, sucking a deep purple mark into the boys skin, taking in every little sound, ever hitch of his breath, every moan that escaped those sweet lips of his.  
The way John had looked up at him with pleading brown eyes was too much and the sounds he was making now were much too intoxicating, keeping Arthur tied down and trapped right where John wanted him. 

He reluctantly pulled back, squeezing his eyes shut. Forcing himself to slow down and _get a grip_. He opened his eyes and looked down at John who was breathing heavily, his pants strained in the front. His eyes trailed lower, his own chest heaving in air as he took in the view. Thoroughly enjoying having him in his lap

“Arthur.... Arthur please” he pleaded, slowly rolling his hips against the man, trying to get at least a little friction, anything at all. 

Arthur groaned, his own pants feeling a bit too tight for his liking. “You’re making it real hard for me to tell you no”

“Then don’t” he whined, grabbing the front of Arthur’s shirt tightly, fumbling with the top two buttons.

A hand stopped him and John looked up again, biting his lip. “Ain’t no way in hell am I fucking you tonight. You didn’t even know how to kiss properly. I intend to do this right and that means you be patient.” 

John flushed at the harshness of his words, nodding a little “fine. But I’m holding you to that”. Of course he had heard Arthur say much worse before, but it was never directed at him and it never promised anything in the future like it did now. 

“Oh I’m sure you shall”

Arthur reached up, untying his neckerchief before he wrapped it around John’s neck, tying it loosely, hiding the purple bruise he had left there “make sure you have this on around camp. I uh...got a little carried away” he said, looking sheepish. 

John smiled softly “thank you. For all of this. I’ve wanted this for so long. To kiss you. To sit here in your lap like this” his voice raspd softly. Ever since puberty had hit him he had a strange voice. Sounding like gravel and like he was much older than he was. 

Arthur grinned a little “you have no idea” he huffs out a soft laugh “let’s get some sleep. We’ve got an elk to find” 

The smaller cowboy removed himself from the other’s lap and they got in the tent together. John scooted his bedroll a little closer to Arthur’s and laid down with him. Arthur opened his arms, a silent invitation that he eagerly accepted, moving into his arms his head on his strong chest. 

John closed his eyes, focusing on the steady beat of the heart below him. He was out in an instant, sleeping peacefully, feeling content and like he was _home_.


	6. Habits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was getting kinda long so I decided to cut it in half

John awoke the next morning, a heavy weight around his waist, soft snoring in his ear. He blinked a few times, peering down at the arm wrapped protectively around him keeping the boys back flush against his chest, the prominent veins, the light brown hair that dusted along his arm. Those hands. _Arthur's_ hands. The night before came flooding back to him.

They kissed. 

_Arthur Fucking Morgan_ had kissed him.

A soft smile played at his lips, he reached down, slowly sliding his own hand under the other mans, intertwining their fingers. John brought the hand up to his lips, placing gentle kisses along the back of his hand, across his scarred knuckles. John had seen time and time again those knuckles get bloody, a freshly beaten body at Arthur’s feet. He had also seen the soft hair of Boadicea's man cascade across those same knuckles as the man would spend long, tedious hours winding her mane into intricate braids, laden with little white and yellow flowers.

John was lost in his own thoughts, too busy to notice how the snoring behind him had stopped and the mans breathing had changed.

Continuing on his way, the cowboy left kisses along his hands once more, moving to his calloused palms. Tracing the deep lines with his lips before he moved back up to his fingers, placing a lingering kiss to the pad of Arthur’s pointer finger.

A deep rumble came from behind him and he froze, his lips pressed against the tip of Arthur’s middle finger

“You better stop”

A mischievous grin crossed his lips “why?” he asks, playing at innocence as he leans in again, giving his middle finger a curious lick and another kiss.

“Marston” a growl. A _warning_. 

One that he had gotten so many times before but this time he knew there was no real anger behind it. John leaned in again, wrapping his lips around his middle finger.

Teeth sank into the juncture of his neck 

Letting out a soft cry, the boy pulled back, pouting as he turned around to face the man 

“Ow! You bastard!” he pushed at Arthur’s chest

Arthur chuckled, leaning in to kiss his forehead, a simple gesture that left the younger man’s heart fluttering nonetheless. “You stink. Go wash up” 

The gentle moment was short lived and John sat up “Well you ain’t smellin’ much better” he defended, exiting the tent. Arthur rolled his eyes, climbing out after him. 

John grabbed a bar of soap from his saddle bag and headed down to the pond near their camp stripping from his clothes along the way, leaving them in a trail to the water. Arthur packed up their camp, rolling up their bedrolls, strapping them back onto their horses. He finished packing up, huffing out a quiet laugh as he followed the trail of clothes closer to the pond,picking up the articles as he went along, taking a seat on a log a few yards from the water. He looked out towards the pond where John stood, not very far from the shore.

Ever since that day he almost drowned in the river after getting bucked off of Old Boy, he never lingered very far from land, even when washing himself. He had yet to learn how to swim, and after that incident Arthur doubted he would be jumping at the opportunity to any time soon. 

He watched for a moment, eventually pulling out his journal and pencil. He sketched lazily along the paper, his hand moving in fluid, deliberate motions. wild black hair, broad shoulders, a slim waist, curved hips, strong yet slender thighs. He drew the ripples of the water, revelled the way the sunlight made the boys wet hair shine. 

He looked back up one more time to be sure he hadn’t missed any details of the scene before him only to be met with John’s eyes, his body, the way a redness crept along his neck and to his face when he caught Arthur red handed, staring, fixated on him. 

The man cleared his throat, standing abruptly as he shoved his journal back into his satchel, turning away “your clothes are by the log” 

Arthur walked quickly over to the horses, busying himself with checking them over, willing his blush away and for his blood to settle and stop rushing where it shouldn’t.

John knew he had been watching him for a while, had heard the quiet footfalls of the man headed his way. He didn’t mind the staring. Welcomed it, actually. It made John feel even more wanted. Let him know those sweet kisses hadn’t just been some foolish dream of his. 

He let himself dry off a bit in the sunshine before he dressed himself again, heading back over to the horses. Arthur had busied himself with feeding both of them and was now lovingly stroking along Boadicea’s nose, nuzzling her gently as he whispered soothing words to her

John bit back a smile at the scene, not able to resist the urge to tease him as he hopped up into his stallions saddle. “So it is true, you are getting soft with your old age” 

Arthur gave Bo a couple more pats, turning his attention to the teen “And you just seem to be getting more ornery and wild by the second”

John laughed, loud and open. “What’s the matter? Can’t tame me enough, big guy?”

“Oh you’ll learn your place soon enough, boy” he smirked, flashing his teeth

His laugh was cut short at the other’s words, Arthur hauled himself into his saddle, heading off to the trail, leaving John dumbfounded and fumbling to grab Old Boy’s reins, spurring him to catch up with Arthur. 

“Hey! Wait now- what the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

But Arthur just kept riding, clearly not intending to elaborate any further.

The rest of the ride deeper into the Cumberland Forest was relatively silent, save for the few comments here and there about leads the two of them were following up on. John had a tip, given to him by some blabbermouth drunkard, of a supposedly rich ranch family on the outskirts of Strawberry, they often left for days at a time to look over the actions in Valentine, or so he was told by said drunk.

 

Not long after John had finished talking about his lead, Arthur pulled them off the trail and dismounted, the boy following suit. Arthur grabbed his rifle and crouched down, looking closely at a few marks in the dirt, the way the grass was pushed down against the earth, creating a sort of pathway 

“Some tracks over here” he murmurs

John takes a look over his shoulder, following them into the treeline a ways “come take a look at this” he whispers to the man approaching him from behind “looks like a tree rub maybe?”

“Good eye.” Arthur looks down, the tracks dissipating a few feet from the two of them. He heads off in another direction. “See if you can find anything else” his eyes trained on the ground, searching for any inclination that Hosea hadn’t sent them out of a wild goose chase. Knowing that man, it was more likely than not. His two foolish, gullible sons out tracking some imaginary animal all over this godforsaken state. Still, Arthur pressed on, determined to see this thing through

A yell rang through the trees, birds took flight in a panic, rabbits and squirrels skittering around at the alarming sound. Arthur’s head shot up, recognizing it immediately “John!”

He stood, running in the direction of the yelling. “John where the hell are you?” he called out frantically, whipping his head around as branches snapped off to his right, the sound of heavy hooves nearing him then the sound of boots, spurs and jingle bobs clanking loudly against each other, only growing louder. Arthur ran towards the sound, rifle in hand. 

He hard the heavy grunting, the loud bugle of a _very_ large and _very_ angry elk. He saw the flash of white _racing_ through the trees, the petrified look on John’s face coming into view, a large white mass following closely behind him. 

It was too late, he tried to slow down but John’s body collided with his, knocking them both to the ground. John was on his feet first, yanking at the back of Arthur’s shirt “Get up! Run Arthur!” he dragged the man to his feet, Arthur tripping over himself as they made a beeline to a boulder a few yards away. Hooves trampling everything in their path right behind them as the two men as ran hard as they could.

Arthur shoved the smaller man behind the boulder, his back falling against it as his trembling fingers worked to load his rifle, The elk barreling towards him, sharp antlers pointed right at him, ready to puncture him, to end him right then and there in a matter of seconds.

Arthur squeezed his eyes shut, aiming the rifle, praying that he either hit the animal with a fatal blow or that his own death be quick and relatively painless.

A gunshot rang out, silencing the forest around them, the beast tripped, stumbled and landed against the earth with a heavy thump. 

The outlaw opened his eyes and slid down against the boulder, his chest heaving, his heart rate skyrocketed, adrenaline coursing through his blood stream, the barrel of his rifle smoking.

John joined him in front of the boulder, plopping down beside him, wheezing slightly as he calmed down, his nerves slowly settling. They sat for a moment before Arthur broke the silence, only softly panting now, no longer fearing for his life

“Fuck Marston! What the hell did you do to make him so goddamn mad?” 

John slumped against Arthur’s side, groaning at the icy burn in his chest “I was just tryna get a closer look at ‘em! How was I ‘posed to know he would turn on me and try to stomp us to death” 

Arthur shook his head in disbelief “leave it to you to piss of a giant like that. Might as well have been a damn grizzly bear” 

“Shut up. We shot the thing didn’t me? Problem solved”

“No. _I_ shot him.” Arthur stood, dusting the grass and leaves from his clothes before offering a hand to the teen who took it gratefully. 

Arthur pulled him up, keeping him close with a hand on his forearm as he looked him over, looking around John’s body for any blood staining through his clothes, a large hand gently cupped his jaw, turning his head side to side, searching for any type of scratch or bruise. 

John blushed a bit and shrugged him off “I’m fine. Leave me be” he chuckled

He reluctantly let go and sighed “damn fool” he muttered, heading over to the elk, pulling his hunting knife from its sheath on his gun belt 

“I heard that”

“Good. ‘S true” 

Arthur made quick work of skinning the elk, sawing off his antlers as well. He wrapped them in the pelt, his sleeves all the way down to his fingers covered in the now cooled and sticky, coagulating blood of the animal. He wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, smudging the crimson liquid there. 

John loaded the pelt and antlers onto the back of Old Boy, securely strapping it down. He pulled his handkerchief from his back pocket, wetting the corner with his tongue as he walked back to Arthur.

The man stood and looked at him curiously. John reached up, gently wiping the blood from his forehead before he placed a sweet and tender kiss to his temple, making Arthur smile, warm and genuine. 

“Lets go get Dutch’s mail. You should take a bath while we’re there. Ms. Grimshaw will have your head if you show up at camp looking like that”

Arthur chuckles deeply, nodding a bit “you’re right. C’mon”

The two of them mount up, taking the hour trip into Valentine.


	7. Habits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 99% of this chapter takes place in a bath lmao

They hitch the horses outside of the Valentine hotel and made their way inside. Arthur pays for a bath and John waits outside in the lobby as he heads for the bath room once the water is drawn. 

Arthur strips down to nothing and sinks into the steaming water, submerging himself up to his collar bones. He lets out a groan, the tension in his saddle sore thighs releasing almost immediately. 

He rested back against the tub, closing his eyes, basking in the luxury of a warm tub. A delicacy Arthur seldom splurged on. 

Left alone with his thoughts, he started to think of none other than John. That boy was a goddamn mess and he knew it.

Arthur had fallen hard and there was nothing to be done about it.

He had tried time and time again to bury his feelings in working girls, even making the long journey to Van Horn to seek out the company of another man. Nothing worked, he could never go through with anything he came there to do, never could get the image of John out of his head as he took someone else, everyone else but the man he wanted, to bed.

Those fiery brown eyes, thin lips. He had the look of a wily, feral, coyote. Or maybe a mangy wolf. He wasn’t sure which. 

Either way, there was no controlling that boy. No way to beat that headstrong personality out of him

Arthur wouldn’t have him any other way. He adored the way John’s hair matched him so well. Unbrushed and dirty, tangled in little knots. 

He was far from perfect, but to Arthur, he was everything he wanted and more. To Arthur, he was beautiful, untamed and raw. That boy wasn’t afraid to speak his mind.

A series of quick, quiet knocks pulled Arthur from his thoughts “yeah?”

No response was given but the door creaked open slowly a second later, John stepping inside, closing the door behind him, turning the lock.

Arthur raised his eyebrow in question “and what do you think you’re doing?”

“Just hear me out... I know I’m no professional like those bath maids but I’ll take care of you and make you feel good and you don’t have to pay me nothin’ extra. He grins, a twinkle in his eye

“Now why do I feel like that last parts a lie?” he shakes his head “You are somethin’ else John Marston. Lemme tell ya” he sighs and sits up, making room in the tub for him “get in here, dumbass”

The boy wastes no time with peeling his clothes from his body, leaving them in a heap on the floor where Arthur had folded his up neatly and set them on a small table in the corner of the room 

Arthur looked away as he stripped, giving him at least a bit of privacy. John noticed this and smiled “You’re the one who’s somethin’ else. I’ve seen you sweet talk a working girl until she was the one begging to pay you to get a room with her but here you are, trying to give me some decency even if you’ve seen it before.” 

John stepped into the tub and sat across from the other man, Arthur’s cheeks tinted pink “yeah well, I told you I was gonna do right by you. Show you that you mean somethin’ to me. I meant it, John” 

“I know you’ll do right by me. You always have” 

his kind words meant the world to Arthur who always did everything he could to keep his family happy and make sure they stayed together even if it meant he was ran ragged, exhausted and beaten down. Everyone else always came first.

John smiles a little, moving closer to Arthur as he grabbed the soap, lathering it into his hands, gathering up the suds.

Lavender and something crisp and clean flooded their senses as John set the soap aside and reached over, massaging one of Arthur’s strong biceps, kneading his thumbs in a bit, working the muscles in circular motions

A heavy sigh was released from Arthur’s lips as he closed his eyes, leaning back against the wall of the tub once more

“This okay?” his questioned, his voice quiet and husky 

“mm feels good” 

John moved to his other bicep, traced his slender fingers down a long jagged scar that followed along the curve of his muscle to his inner bicep. The five tiny marks that lay along each side of the scar, where his skin was gathered together, pulled back in place and stitched closed

He remembered how he got this scar. 

How it was _his_ fault

A much younger John, a more reckless, incautious John had decided to follow his older brother into town, curiosity getting the better of him. Arthur had said he was going out for a drink and the boy decided he wanted to be a part of it too. He had snuck into the saloon from one of the back doors, avoiding the hustle and bustle of everyone else as much as he could as to not be noticed. If he were he surely would have be thrown out in the mud for being too young.

He observed Arthur talking to a few other men, three of them to be exact, looking dirty and unkempt. Recognizing them as a few of Colm’s boys. 

They had a mean look about them and the way Arthur’s stance changed from relaxed to coiled up and ready to fight, their words growing louder in the heat of the argument, he knew it was about to get ugly. 

The largest of the three other men led them all outside, Arthur followed behind, his fists clenched tight.

 

Young Johnny Marston took it upon himself to become Arthur’s personal bodyguard, and rushed out after the men. 

A nasty fight had already broken out. Arthur towering over some poor soul he had pinned into the mud, punch after punch splitting his cheek, cracking his nose until he laid bloodied and unmoving. The man was yanked back by the large one and John decided it was his time to step in. He pulled out his pocket knife, the only one he had at the time, much too young to understand the rules of a fist fight and to know that fighting dirty would grant much more trouble than he had planned for. 

He ran forwards, his arm being caught and yanked back by the third man, shoving him to the ground 

“You tryna pull a knife on us?!”

Arthur must have heard his yell as he had silenced the large man with a blow to his temple, turning quickly “John! What are you doing boy!” he growled, John had heard Arthur sound menacing and look damn near the size of a grizzly bear but that anger was never for him. Was never because of him. He cowered down, shrinking back within himself, the man that grabbed his arm was distracted long enough for John to get away, yank his arm free and _run_. 

“If you wanna fight dirty. That’s how we’ll do it”

The man pulled his knife out fast, faster than Arthur could and cut him hard and deep down his bicep. The rest of the fight was brutal but ended quickly. Arthur left the scene, his new shirt sliced down the sleeve, blood soaking and staining the once soft flannel fabric. The other man laid in a heap in the mud, his body bruised and even more bloody than Arthur was.

 

His expression must have changed because the next thing he knew, Arthur’s large hands enveloped his own smaller ones, pulling him back to reality. 

“Hey, quit beatin’ yourself up over that. I ribbed you enough about it when it happened. Can’t change it now.”

John looked up at him, it had been a few years since that incident but John still felt bad. He never followed Arthur into town again unless he was asked to. 

“You could have died” 

Arthur laughs at that “to a bunch of O’Driscolls? You think that low of me huh?”

John chuckled “No. but still I shouldn’t have done that. I should have known better”

“You learned you lesson” His voice was stern, leaving no room for further discussion

A few moments passed, John gently scrubbing the caked on blood from his hands and forearms, slowly working his way to Arthur’s chest, rubbing and massaging his body as he moved closer, discreetly settling himself down on the others lap, his legs straddling him. 

John hummed softly, pleased with the way Arthur was letting him touch him, his hands slowly wandering along the dark wiry hair on his chest and down to his abdomen, on his way lower, John’s thumbs caught against the mans nipples. It was so subtle it could have been played off as an accident. 

The outlaw below him grunted softly, his eyes staying closed. John took this as a good sign, that and the fact that his nipples were now hardened and a slightly darker shade of pink. 

John decided to do it again, a little rougher this time, circling his thumbs around them, pinching slightly. Arthur groaned 

“Watch it”

John was tired of waiting. He had waited long enough for the two of them to even admit their feelings for eachother and now he just wanted it all. He knew Arthur’s intentions were good and that he wanted to treat John right. He wanted that too of course. But a little touching couldn’t hurt. could it? He was still a teenager after all and definitely had the lustful mind of one

He leaned in, slowly nibbling along the man’s sternum, soft little nips to his chest, his collarbones and up to his neck. John licked a stripe up the hollow of his throat. Arthur reached up, grabbing at the boys hip roughly, moaning deeply, biting his lip to silence any further sounds

John smiles triumphantly, knowing he was slowly chipping away at Arthur’s well controlled composure. 

That idea all came crashing down around him when Arthur sat up, looking down at him.

“Don’t be gettin too handsy. I may have agreed to you gettin’ in the bath with me but my statement from the other night still stands”

John sent him an angry glare, groaning in frustration “Come on Arthur! Just once? Let me touch you once. I need it I need-”

His words were caught in his throat, Arthur’s gaze changed, staring at John so intensely it left his skin burning, he grabbed his jaw roughly, keeping John’s eyes locked onto his 

“I am not going to touch you until I talk to Hosea about us. He’ll be more understanding than Dutch and can maybe talk some sense into him. If Dutch finds out that I touched you while we were sent out to do business, that’ll be the last time you get sent out with me and it’ll be the last day I see when he puts six bullets between my eyes” 

Arthur’s eyes flickered down to John’s lips as he wetted them, his breath shaky and uneven as he did so. 

“Now believe me my patience is unraveling and it is unraveling _fast_.”

His expression grew hungry, his eyes taking in John’s exposed chest. 

“I want nothing more than to have my way with you. I’ve waited long enough for it. Be patient until I talk to ‘em. And after that I promise you, you’ll get what you’re after and then some.” 

The promise of what he would get left John’s mind buzzing, thinking of all the possibilities. His thoughts were cut short by Arthur starting to get up, gently moving the boy from his lap.

Arthur was quick out of the tub, already having a linen towel wrapped around his waist before John could catch a glimpse. He shot the boy a knowing smirk. Of course Arthur figured he would be trying to look. 

The _bastard_.

A baby blue linen towel was handed to him once he got out and the two outlaws dried and dressed themselves. Arthur set his hat back on top of his head while John tied the mans neckerchief back around his neck, checking in the small rusted mirror that it covered up the mark. 

“there’s a back door you can leave through. I’ll meet you out front” Arthur took his leave, heading out the front door, tipping his hat to the hotel owner as he passed 

The horses were unhitched and waiting with Arthur when John came around from the back, The elk pelt had been moved onto Bo. They mounted up, Arthur sending the boy on his way to the post office while he went to the butcher to sell the pelt. John went inside, coming back a few minutes later with a few letters which he placed in his saddle bag before mounting back up, watching as Arthur made his way over to him. 

“How much did ya get?”

“Not enough for the heart attack it damn near gave me. Got fifty for it. At least Hosea will be pleased” he shrugged his shoulders “let’s go”

They followed the trail back to camp, walking their horses side by side. 

A deep honeyed melody drifted to John’s ears and he looked over, watching Arthur sing to Bo. or maybe just to himself. He wasn’t sure. But he enjoyed it either way. Arthur looked over, stopping mid verse. He tilted his hat down, the brim hiding his eyes but not quite covering his red embarrassed cheeks 

“Oh come on Morgan, I’ve heard you sing before. Don’t stop”

Arthur didn’t continue and John looked away, assuming he wasn’t going to before his voice picked up again where he had left off. 

Some of the words were forgotten and Arthur hardly had any rhythm in him but it soothed the horses and even John anyways. 

They continued on their way, in no real hurry to get back to camp.


	8. Habits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for missing a day on an update and this chapter will be pretty short but I was out on a short camping trip so I wasn't writing

They strode in a couple hours later, nearing late afternoon. Both of the cowboys hitched their horses at one of the posts. 

Hosea greeted his two boys with a wide grin “how did you get on?”

“Well, we got your elk. Butcher paid a pretty penny for ‘em. But, we almost got mauled to death when Marston here decided he wanted a closer look.”

Hosea laughed at that, patting Arthur on his shoulder

“Guess the bull thought he was being challenged. Or maybe he just didn’t like his ugly mug”

John huffed, punching Arthur’s arm playfully “ ‘ugly mug’ “ he mocked “says you” 

“Settle down now boys. Arthur, join me by the fire. This sounds like it’ll be a good story. We’ll see if it compares to the time you brought home those two beautiful bass” he winks, his voice was light, matching his smile he wore so openly

Arthur groans “now don’t bring that up again Hosea. It’s embarrassin’ ’” he followed the elder to the main campfire, sitting in the large wolf pelt covered log while Hosea sat in a chair across the fire. He began his story, Hosea leaning in close, intrigued.

John pulled the mail from his saddle bag and headed towards Dutch’s tent to deliver it

“Hey Dutch?” he knocked lightly on one of the support beams, pulling the man from his book “got the mail for you”

Dutch looked up, studying him for a moment, his face twisted in some unknown emotion. He stood, striding over towards John, looking a bit closer at him as he took the mail from him “Thank you son…”

He paused

“And what a lovely neckerchief” he reached up, his fingers gently grabbing the material, rubbing it between his fingers “Hm. Seems so familiar” 

John fought the urge to back away, anxiety rippling through him 

“Is it new?”

“N-No. Uh it’s Arthur’s..he gave it to me” it wasn’t a complete lie

“Gave it to you? How very Interesting....I hardly ever see that man without this thing wrapped around his neck.

Dutch’s fingers curled around the neckerchief, tugging a bit, catching a glimpse of purple, abused skin. “Well, Mister Marston, it is quite a new look for you”

With that, he let go, stepping away from John and back into his tent, flipping through the letters he was given.

John swallowed, a lump caught in his throat as he moved away from the tent and the nosey man.

By this time Arthur had finished up his story with Hosea and had been whisked off to do his neglected chores, chopping wood, bringing in a few buckets of water for the laundry, drinking, and wash tub. Ms. Grimshaw nipping at his heels all the while, keeping him on top of the task at hand. 

The man was finally given a break and made his way over to the box that held all of their camp funds behind their leaders tent. He opened the box and pulled out the money he had gotten for the elk, placing most of it inside, leaving a little money out for himself and for John, who he would give it to later. He wrote their names down in the ledger along with the amount and what it was from. He closed the ledger and started walking away to his tent, passing Dutch’s

“Arthur would you come over here for a moment?”

The man stopped in his tracks, turning heel to head back towards the large tent “Sure dutch. Somethin’ wrong?” he asks, noticing the tension in his features, his furrowed brows, his deep set lines making him look older than he was, as he stood at the entrance of the tent.

“Oh, I’m not so sure son, I was hoping you could relieve me of some stress” 

“Of course boss, anything you need” Arthur stepped into the tent, eager to help as he always was

Dutch stood from his place on his cot “close the tent flaps for me my dear boy?” his voice was dark but calm, making sure not to alarm the other man 

The cowboy happily obliged, undoing the simple tie, letting the cavas flaps fall closed, assuming it was just a simple matter of privacy Dutch was after 

Dutch lit himself a cigar, taking a deep drag from it, slowly blowing out as he watched Arthur closely, studied his muscles as they moved under his shirt. His life’s work, a perfect prodigy, strong, hard, endlessly _loyal_. 

_Dutch's boy_. 

A sense of possession grew over him as he stared at his boy, taking in his features. Arthur truly was a gorgeous man, Dutch couldn’t deny that even if he wanted to. 

Arthur moved closer to him, stepping behind him, his warm hands settling on Dutch’s tense shoulders, he slowly kneaded the flesh there, rolling the joints, working out the knots. “Relax Dutch. You deserve it” he says sincerely, smiling a bit as he massaged his father’s shoulders

Dutch grinned “Damn did I raise you right” he groaned softly, letting himself enjoy the feeling, momentarily forgetting why he had even called him into his tent in the first place. He let him carry on for a while longer before turning around to face him, deciding to get back to business.

Arthur’s hands fell away as Dutch turned, giving him a questioning look. 

The older man took another puff on his cigar, smoke curling around Arthur's face, making him cough slightly amd step back a couple feet. Dutch started forward, slowly, his eyes almost black, serious, and determined “I noticed you had given your neckerchief to John. I never thought I would see you without it”

Arthur blinked, catching up with what Dutch’s true intentions were. He rubbed the back of his neck “he was just getting a bit cold is all. Thought that might help him some”

The man had never been a good liar

“Don’t do that to me son. It hurts me deeply when you lie to me” he reached up, cupping Arthur’s jaw, stepping in closer, crowding the mans space and making him back up until he bumped into a chair.

“Sit” 

Arthur didn’t have to be told twice. Not when the older man was in one of his ‘moods’ as Hosea had called it. Unreadable and dangerous. He sat down quickly, obediently, Dutch’s loyal guard dog, his _pet_.

“My precious boy” he started, sadness in his eyes “You are breaking my heart. Lying to me about so much lately” 

“Dutch I-”

“I thought I had made myself clear. Your relations with John were not to continue”

Dutch disappeared from Arthur’s line of sight as he moved behind him. He didn’t dare move or even turn his head to look at the man. 

He was suddenly so close to Arthur, he nearly jumped out of his skin when lips brushed against the shell of his ear, cigar smoke spilling from the man’s lips as he spoke, his voice rich and alluring.

“You like claiming what’s yours do you? Like leaving your marks all over him?” it ended with a growl

Arthur shook his head almost frantically “N-no Dutch it ain’t like that!”

The man circled around him “I saw what you left on him.” his foot came up to rest on the chair between Arthur’s spread legs, the toe of his well polished boots meer inches from his crotch

“Does it get you hard, Arthur? Seeing that on him?”

Dutch pressed his foot to arthurs crotch, keeping him pinned against the chair. The cowboys eyes widened as he gripped the arm of the chair, trying to ground himself.

He always had some strange feelings about the man. Maybe it was the way Dutch made him feel under his scrutinizing gaze, maybe it was the way he spoke, how his words could draw any one in. Maybe it was how Dutch enthralled him with every little thing he did. Or maybe it was pure unconditional love that turned to curious lust at a young age that stuck with him in his older years. Burried deep in some darker part of him.

It didn't matter now. He was growing hard under Dutch’s boot and there was nothing he could do about it 

He wasn’t sure what had his cock growing between his legs, whether it was the mention of what he and John had done or the menacing man before him, so easily putting him where he belonged.

Arthur had never felt more vulnerable and confused. Caught in a war with himself. He needed to tell Dutch that John had decided he wanted him. Needed to make him understand. Tell him it is going to happen whether he wants it to or not. The other part of him, the part that Dutch will forever own wants to submit, give in, curl up in his lap like a dog and tell him over and over how loyal he will be, how good he will be for Dutch. Beg forgiveness for ever going against what his leader had said. 

All he could do was whine, looking up helplessly. 

Dutch leaned in close, removing his foot “Be a good boy Arthur. Heed my warning or there will be consequences”

With that he was dismissed. He stood fast, tipping his hat at Dutch as he exited the front of his tent, his body left buzzing with arousal and a little fear, burning as hot as the desert sun.


	9. Habits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some really NSFW shit is coming real soon I promise.  
> Also thank you guys so very much for all of your kind comments and encouragements. they all mean a lot to me

Arthur searched the camp for John, he was still pretty worked up and hoping the boy would be able to take his mind off of everything for a while.

He found the man sitting by the campfire, resting in the dirt, his back leaning up against the large log. 

John could sense the other's tension as he strode over to him, his shoulders drawn tight, his footsteps heavy and gaze strong. he knew something bad had happened. 

Arthur pulled a cigarette from his front shirt pocket, sitting beside the boy, their flanks flush against one another. He struck a match across his boot, a flicker of a flame came to life. He lit his cigarette and took a long drag from it, letting it fill his lungs. He held it in, relishing in the feeling, his nerves slowly calming as he blew out the smoke, offering the cigarette over to John, taking his hat off with his free hand, setting it aside on the log behind them.

John looked up at him from the knife in his lap that he had been sharpening and leans in, his lips wrapping around it, breathing in slowly as he looked up at Arthur through his long dark lashes. 

He pulled away and leaned up to the man, kissing him languidly, just how he had taught him, licking at his full lips. Arthur parted them, letting John slip his tongue inside, the smoke he was holding spilling between their lips and into his mouth. 

Arthur moaned into his mouth, reaching up to grab a fistful of the other’s long dark hair, tugging him in closer. John grabbed at his shirt collar, angling his head to get _deeper_ , taste _more_ of him

John suddenly was pushing him away, his hands on his chest “we’re gonna get caught” he whispered harshly

He shook his head in answer “everyone's gone to sleep for the night. Don’t worry.” he mumbled against John’s lips as he was kissing him again, needing him more than he knew. He was wound up tighter than a string in a banjo and was eager for a distraction.

His knife now discarded in the dirt, completely forgotten about. Arthur leaned in, moving the boy down onto the ground, his much larger body covering his completely. His hands moved to cup John’s stubbled jaw, the kiss turning heated and passionate

Full of lip bites and tongues fighting for dominance. Arthur won in the end, eliciting a soft, pitiful noise from the cowboy below him when he suckled on his tongue between kisses. 

Long fingers carded through honey hair, gripping and tugging in earnest, desperate to get more.

Arthur was more than willing to give him more, giving him one last bruising kiss before he made his way lower, biting and sucking red marks into the skin of the boys throat, above and below the neckerchief. 

None of the marks were deep enough to last into the morning but they were visible now and Arthur was wallowing in pride at seeing them on the smaller man. The way his spit glistened on his neck, the red marks illuminated by the fire, the only thing to be heard is the crackling of firewood, John’s harsh breathing, an occasional howl from a coyote

“Beautiful…” he whispered, the calloused pads of his fingers tracing the marks 

John looked up at him, love and lust flooding his eyes, blowing his pupils wide. He was rendered speechless. No one had ever called him beautiful before. A rat faced bastard, sure, but never beautiful. He wondered if Arthur really meant it or was just trying to seduce him into getting what he wanted. The way the man’s eyes raked over his body, taking in every inch of visible skin, drinking up the sight of him as if he were lost in the desert for days on end without water, make him think otherwise. 

Arthur was genuine

He made John believe he was beautiful.

“Shut up and kiss me” his voice came out much more husky and gravely than usual

A huff of a laugh was all he got before warm, supple lips were on his again, taking his breath away. A hand pushed underneath his shirt, sliding along the lean muscle of his abdomen, higher and higher until reaching his nipple. 

He could feel the smirk of the other man against his lips. _Payback_.

A pinch and a soft tug was all it took for John to turn into a whining mess. His hand grabbed at Arthur’s bicep, whimpering against his lips, as the hand in his shirt moved to his other nipple, twisting and rubbing roughly, working it into a hard nub 

“Fuck. Touch me more”

“Demanding bastard” he growled out, biting and pulling harder of John’s lip, making the boy cry out a little louder than he should. Arthur quickly covered his mouth with his hand, abandoning the task at hand, his other arm too busy holding himself up 

“Keep quiet or I’ll stop” he removed his hand

John nodded quickly “I’ll be quiet just please don’t stop”

Arthur chuckled at his eager behavior “wouldn’t dream of it Johnny boy. Not with the way you’re soundin’ at the slightest touch. Gettin’ me all worked up as usual” 

He ran his hands down lower, sliding his palm over the front of John’s jeans before bringing it back up again, smirking at the mewl that left the others mouth

Arthur considered himself a man with great self control. And with that great self control came his ability to tease relentlessly, getting the boy below him worked over into a mess while seemingly being unaffected. 

On the outside at least. On the inside Arthur was ike a twitchy finger on a trigger. Ready to ravage him, to claim what he long waited for. He knew to be patient. Restrain himself. It was about John and not him. John’s pleasure came first before he took what he wanted and he knew that. Was well aware that he had to be gentle with him at first.

John brought his attention back to center, tugging at the man’s hair, moving his head down to his neck, tilting his head back, showing off the expanse of unmarked, pure skin.

Arthur latched on immediately, sucking an angry red bruise right below the other mark, indentions of his teeth littered the man’s throat and collarbone area as Arthur marked up every inch of skin he could see.

All the while John was encouraging him, pleading, _begging_

“Right there Arthur. That feels so good. Please don’t stop”

His voice came out breathy and absolutely _wrecked_ , trembling and wrung out, the fingers gripping the man’s hair only gripped tighter, tangling in the soft strands. 

He couldn't stop the groan that escaped his lips at those words

"Jesus boy. you have no clue what you do to me"

John smirked "Im sure I do. feel you against my hip Arthur" he pressed his hips up, driving home the point 

Morgan ground his cock down against the mans hip in reciprocation, a sigh leaving his mouth at the much needed friction.

He pushed himself up onto his hands instead of his forearms, giving him space between the intoxicating man below him, he knew they needed to stop before the last of his patience snapped like a guitar string. The last thing he needed was to have John bent over one of the empty crates by the fire, taking what Arthur had to offer only to wake up Hosea, or worse, Dutch.

Arthur nuzzled at his neck, nibbling his jaw before pulling away, both men achingly hard in their pants. He leaned down once more, aimed for his lips this time

The kiss he gave John was much sweeter than their previous hurried ones. He took his time, tasting every inch he could, pulling the boys bottom lip between his teeth, gently tugging before letting it slip and bounce back into place

John hummed pleasantly, his mind clouded. His neck ached, a dull thumping pain at every bruise and a stinging sensation from every bite.

They kissed slowly, lovingly, their hearts racing with the tenderness shown, caught on words that shouldn’t be muttered yet but threatened to escape from both of them.

Arthur gave one last chaste kiss to his red lips before settling down beside him. John turned to his side, resting his head on Morgan’s upper chest, placing a quick peck there. 

“You look good in my neckerchief. Think it does somethin’ to me when I look at ya” he chuckles softly, a deep rumble in John’s ear 

“I can tell” his words came out fondly, his finger splayed out in the few button opening of the others shirt “Maybe after these marks are gone, I’ll keep it anyways just to tease you”

“Oh now that’s just cruel”

“Serves you right for making me wait so goddamn long to have you” he grumbles, sounding angry even though they both know there’s no bite to his words

“I’ll make it up to you plenty ‘o times”

“You better” 

It was silent after that, the two cowboys staring up at the blanket of stars in the sky, unknowing of the eyes that had watched them from the side of Dutch and Hosea’s tent.


	10. Habits

Arthur laid awake in his cot the next morning, the weather was getting warmer with the bringing of spring. He slept with his tent flaps tied back, enjoying the free flowing breeze that rustled his soft hair. He was in no hurry to get up and start the day even though he had a robbery job to plan. 

Everything seemed to be going well.

He had finally taken a step forward to admit feelings for John and not only did he not get shot for it, but the boy actually reciprocate those feelings. Their little miscellaneous family was healthy, happy, and growing. They had plenty of money and were well hidden from any nearby O’Driscolls. 

Things were looking up and Arthur wanted to sit in the moment, take a second to appreciate everything going on around him

He sat up and propped himself back onto a half wall of sturdy crates that lined the back on his tent. He used them as a sort of makeshift shelves, decorated them with a few pictures of his, recently passed, catahoula cur, Copper, Dutch and Hosea, John and some of their family all together, and one out of place picture on his father.

His journal was grabbed from the table beside his bed along with his pencil. It had been a while since he had time to journal. He opened up to a blank page, describing the hunting trip he had taken with John and their little rendezvous with the elk. He wrote about the night the two cowboys had shared with each other.

He drew a few flowers he remembered seeing along the trail they had taken, drew the elk in all its glory. He flipped his page back to the drawing he had done of John bathing in the pond and smiled fondly at it. 

 

_That boy, he makes me act a damn fool. How I manage to control myself as much as I have will remain a mystery. Dutch seems cross with me. Says it’s wrong to be sweet on the boy but I can’t stop myself. Somethin’ about the way he looks at me. I can’t keep away from him_.

 

_I think I love him_

 

Arthur swallowed thickly, his pencil pausing after the sentence. He thought it over for a moment

His greasy mop of hair, those big brown eyes, his patchy scruff and thin lips. His laugh, deep and way too loud.

Damn. _His voice_

The scratchy rumble of it, how it sounded so sweet when he was talking to Arthur. His touch. _Everything about him_.

That clumsy fool.

He was all Arthur could think about. 

He left the words right where they lay on the page, concluding them to be true.

With that, Arthur closed his journal, wrapping the leather strap back around it. He stood and dressed himself, fitting his hat onto his head before exiting his tent, heading straight for the coffee. He nodded his thanks towards Pearson who was preparing their usual stew for later in the day

He filled his mug and drank it slowly, enjoying the taste. Hosea joined him a few minutes later, a newspaper tucked up under his arm as he drank with the man 

“Dutch seemed in a strange mood last night” he commented

Arthur hesitated “Yeah. he isn’t too happy with me lately” 

Hosea nodded. Arthur was relieved that he didn’t mention anything further

He should have known better.

“Go grab your pole and meet me by the horses. Saw some small fishing boats left down by the river. I doubt anyone will care if we borrowed one”

He was gone before Arthur could respond, leaving no room for arguments. He sighed and finished up his coffee. He needed a chance to talk alone with his father anyways he had just hoped he would at least have time to sort out what to say. Nothing he could do about it now. 

Not ten minutes later he and Hosea were riding their mounts down to the river, fishing poles in hand. The ride was silent, Arthur’s head reeling with every word he could and should say to Hosea. He had no idea what he should say. Hopefully the man would go easy on him.

 

They unmounted near the Dakota and headed towards one of the boats docked on the rocky shore. Hosea got in the boat, Arthur sending it off towards the water before hopping in.

The weather was warm, cooled by the flowing water. A bright blue sky and a round burning sun rising higher and higher. It was peaceful but not peaceful enough to calm Arthur’s jittery nerves

Hosea baited both of their poles while Arthur rowed them to an opening in the river where the water filled out and settled 

They sat side by side on a small bench, casting their lined over into the water

Arthur was granted silence to think. But not for long. _Certainly_ not long enough for him to sort his thoughts

“It’s about damn time” 

“Time for what?” 

“For you two to stop fighting like children and acting like you didn’t have eyes for each other”

Arthur froze, his line halfway reeled in. he cleared his throat, daring to look at the man

“ _W-what_?”

Hosea smiled “It’s good to see you two so happy” 

He cleared his throat, daring to look at the man as he pulled in his line, setting his pole at their feet “how did you...?”

“You two should really be sure everyone in camp is actually asleep before you pull a stunt like that in the middle of camp.” he chuckles “besides I figured you was sweet on that boy long ago, anyhow”

Arthur should have known. That man was wise beyond his years. He was observant, always watching everything. He scoffed at his own stupidity for thinking they were hiding it from him. “Nothing gets past you huh?”

“ ‘fraid not. Is that why Dutch is actin’ up?”

He nods some “He says John is still a kid. Thinks it’s wrong what we’re doin” 

Hosea considered this for a moment “I’ll talk to him. That boy has been after you since we welcomed him in. Dutch knows it too. If he hasn’t been deterred from you by now, well, I’m damn sure his mind has been made” 

Arthur looked down at his boots, his hat hiding the twinkle in his eye and the smile that crooks onto his face “Thank you Hosea”

The man reaches his arm around his son, squeezing his shoulders tight “You two deserve to be happy after everything this world has put you through”

They fished together for the rest of the morning into early afternoon.

There was no shortage of laughter and jokes shared between them, all of them at Arthur’s expense of course

They brought back a pretty good haul of Bluegill and Smallmouth. Arthur was given the task of taking the fish to Pearson’s covered chuckwagon while Hosea left to find Dutch. 

The man in question was found lounging under a small oak tree, his back against the sturdy trunk, a poetry book in hand 

Hosea sat down beside him, setting a hand on his thigh to get his attention. Dutch folded the corner of the page he was on before setting the book down in his lap, looking up at his dear friend 

“I talked with Arthur” he began

“Is that so?” 

“Dutch, I think the two of them have made off well with each other. I know you don’t agree with Arthur’s actions but...look at them” he nods his head over to the two mentioned, who were helping with their chores, working in unison, sharing knowing warm smiles between them as they worked.

Dutch watched them for a moment, something twisting in his gut, rising in his throat like bile. He swallowed the feeling down, looking closer, his lips breaking into a small smile “I suppose so. They seem quite taken with each other”

“Arthur will be good to him. You and I both know that. And well, John is...John. He’ll be sure that he doesn’t get too slow with his old age. He’ll keep him on his toes” he teased lightly, chuckling

Dutch sighed, he wanted nothing more than for his precious sons to be happy, especially Arthur. He was possessive over him, wanted to keep him to himself. Arthur loved Dutch deeply and he knew it. He wanted that love in a different way. Knew it was there even, had been shown before. But, Arthur was happiest with John. 

Hosea squeezed his thigh “You remember how old we were when we got into the same kind of mischief.”

Dutch laughed a bit “I do old friend. I sure do” he smiled at the man and pushed his jealousy aside “I want them happy. If this is what they want then so be it”


	11. Habits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter! very NSFW 
> 
> I think I want to make a second part to this of when John is older and he and Arthur are still together. canon timeline with chapter 2 or 3? let me know if you all would like to read that. There will still be no big L btw

Dutch spent the rest of the day observing the two boys from behind his book, his eyes peering over the top of the pages. They truly did seem content with each other. 

He was getting eaten up by the guilt that settled heavy and acidic in his stomach, leaving a bad taste in his mouth. He was supposed to be taking care of his sons, making sure that no matter what they had everything they needed and were living the best life that they could given their circumstances. He mentally cursed himself for letting his own feelings drive his decision to keep Arthur from John. He needed to make things right. Fix their relationship and apologize. It was going to hurt him, seeing the two together and knowing Arthur wasn’t his. How he could leave and start off on his own any time he wanted. He no longer needed Dutch if he had John

He let the man grab a bowl of stew and settle himself in front of the fire while he ate before he walked over. 

“Arthur, I’d like you to take a ride with me once you finish”

Something about the way Dutch’s eyebrows were pinched together, the pain in his face not very well hidden, made Arthur stand immediately “No need to wait for me Dutch”

His voice was soft, concerned, his drawl still evident. He raised his stew bowl to his lips, hurriedly drinking down the rest of it before Dutch could protest, a little grease sliding from the corner of his mouth and onto his chin

Dutch watched the drop intensely. Staring. Debating. Before he could decide better, he reached up, gently wiping the mess away with the pad of his thumb, pressing it against Arthur’s lips once he was done. 

Arthur looked at him, trying hard to read his expression, a fluttering in his chest. His tongue darted out to lick up the grease

Dutch pulled his hand away, breaking whatever trance the two had been pulled into. He cleared his throat and gave a quick nod “Alright c’mon”

They approached the hitching posts, Dutch seating himself first on top of The Count. Once Arthur was mounted, He led them away from camp, the younger man following closely behind, reading the way his father’s shoulders were slouched, his usual steel demeanour seemed to be cracking 

Arthur frowned at the mans back, not sure of what to say. Dutch spoke up for him about ten minutes later

“Where are you planning on going?” he asks, a soft tremble to his voice

The man behind him didn’t give an answer for a while “What are you talkin’ ‘bout Dutch?”

“Oh don’t do that. Arthur I know you’re leaving. Don’t lie to me now”

Arthur’s expression was pure confusion 

“I ain’t lyin’ to ya.” he defended “Where did you get this idea that I was leavin’?

Dutch shook his head “You and John. You two are happy. I know one of these days you two are going to head off on-”

Arthur interrupted him, incredulous “Now wait just a damn minute-” he moved up beside Dutch, grabbing The Counts reins from him “Where ‘n the is this all comin’ from?” 

He was offended. He couldn’t believe Dutch was questioning his loyalty to him. Didn’t understand why he would ever think Arthur would leave his family, the two men who raised him, taught him everything 

When he was given no answer he pulled back on both of the reins in his hands, stopping their horses. He dismounted and Dutch did the same, following Arthur off of the path and over to a large tree. Boulders nestled in between the raised roots and tall grass. Arthur turned around to look at him, hurt written all over his face 

Dutch’s heart clenched, his chest burning “You are going to make your own family with him, away from us. Away from me” He looked away 

Arthur shook his head “Dutch I ain’t goin’ nowhere” his expression softening, the moonlight catching on Dutch’s cheek, illuminating a wet trail

Arthur’s breath caught in his throat. He had only seen the man cry one other time. When his first horse had taken a bullet in a firefight and lost her life. It was only a few tears shed while they burried her but it was enough to scare young Arthur at seeming such a hardened man cry.

He hesitated, his fingers twitching at his side before his mind was made and Dutch was pulled against him “Don’t go cryin’ on me old man” he tried lightening the mood but it only made Dutch grab the back of Arthur’s shirt in his fists, keeping him there as if he would disappear if he let go 

“You won’t leave me?”

A sigh left his lips, rubbing slow, soothing circles along the mans back “No. Not ever Dutch”

He hugged him tight, the familiar smell of tobacco and some cheap cologne filled his senses. He burried his face in Dutch’s neck, not willing to let go just yet. 

This man meant the world to him, always remained strong and kept Arthur grounded even when he himself felt like falling apart. But, here he was, breaking down in his sons arms, pleading him to never leave. To stay. Forever. Arthur couldn’t have told him no if he wanted to. He tried to console him, assure him of anything he could. That he will always be Dutch’s, will always remain loyal to him, be there for him no matter what. The words wouldn’t come out right, he knew that. He would end up stuttering and making a fool of himself. But damn if he didn’t try to find the words.

“I’m stayin’ right here. Be loyal to what matters. Remember? This family matters. _You_ matter.”

He paused, his fingers toying gently with the dark curls at the nape of Dutch’s neck.

His voice was soft, carefully picking his next words

“I’m still yours. Still your son, Dutch. My loyalty will always be for you. For Hosea and for our family. You don’t gotta worry about that ever. You saved me and for that I owe you my life. I intent to repay you every day I can. In every way I can”

He took a deep breath, trying to find his center once more, sort his thoughts and stop his incessant rambling before it got worse

“I’m repayin’ you with my loyalty. Not even a million dollars could make me leave”

Dutch seemed to be soothed by his words, if only temporarily. But it was enough to get him back to his old self. Bring back that pride in him just a little bit.

“I can’t lose you son. I don’t know what I’d do” he pulled away from the other’s embrace “I want you to be happy. I want that for John too. It seems you two have found that in each other”

His usual demeanor was returning, making Arthur relax a little 

“Thank you Dutch” he said quietly, so many unspoken words between them. They both knew they could have been something at one time but Arthur’s heart belonged to a no good, unruly, clumsy outlaw

“You be good to him. I know I raised you to be a proper gentleman under that rough exterior and I expect you to be” he gave a hard pat to his shoulder, making the younger chuckle softly “Of course.”

They rode back to camp, a comfortable silence between them. Their minds at ease for once.

Dutch bid his goodnight to his son and settled down for the night in his tent. Arthur stayed awake, drinking a beer by the dimming fire while he waited to hear Dutch’s soft snoring.

Twenty minutes later the snores picked up, little puffs of air that were hardly detectable

He stood, discarding his bottle before making his was to John’s tent. He didn’t bother to keep his footsteps quiet, wanted the boy to know he was there and why.

He pushed back the flaps and stepped inside. John sat up on his bedroll, his hair disheveled and his voice laden with sleep “Arthur? Where were you?” he asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Was talkin’ to Dutch”

John nodded some, looking up at Arthur who was shrugging off his suspenders, letting them hang loosely on his hips. His hat was removed next, set aside on an empty crate in the corner of the tent. His boots were kicked off and left by the opening of his tent.

John watched him curiously, wondering if Arthur had decided to sleep in his tent for once instead of the boy joining him in his. 

The meaning behind his words finally dawned on him. Why Arthur was removing his suspenders, his hat. The realization of what was to come sparked in his chest, a warmth flooding his lower stomach, his thoughts reeling with all of the possibilities, all of the things Arthur could do to him

“Oh”

He was suddenly very awake, his dick taking interest in the situation, growing in his union suit, the thin fabric making it impossible to hide it. The cowboy moves down to him, kneeling in front of him

Arthur leans in, licking his mouth open, kissing him hard and desperate. Too desperate for his liking, but he couldn’t be bothered to care how needy he seemed. He was finally getting what he longed for. He was finally getting John beneath him. 

John wrapped his arms around his neck, kissing back just as eagerly. He gave in easily, submitting it the other man, letting him take control and maneuver John onto his back, his own body hovering over him

Wandering hands trailed up the back of Arthur’s shirt, feeling along the span of his muscles, gripping at the grooves of strong shoulder blades, blunt fingers digging into the flesh there. 

Arthur pulled back and stared down at him, taking in his features, his face showing nothing but pure, open adoration and lust for him. His hands slowly made their way down, undoing a few buttons on John’s union suit

“You still want me, Johnny?” his voice came out sweet, almost teasing.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he gave a roll of his hips, letting Arthur feel him. Feel how much he wanted this. Wanted Arthur and everything he had to offer

That stupid grin of his that melted John’s heart played at his soft lips, heating up the boys cheeks at the sight of it, knowing he’s the one who caused such a beautiful thing

“ ‘spose so”

He leaned in, capturing his lips once more in a searing kiss, melting against one another. Arthur’s heart was _soaring_. 

Yes. This was _right_. 

John sighed pleasantly against his lips, nibbling on the man’s bottom lip, drawing a deep hum from Arthur

He was quickly losing his patience, grabbing at the button’s on Arthur’s shirt, his shaky fingers fumbling with the buttons.

Arthur reached down, his hand resting on top of his, stopping his movements

“Slow down John, we’ve got plenty of time”

He kissed his forehead gently

“Besides, if you pop a button off my goddamn shirt I’ll be sure to tell Grimshaw you’ll be sewing it back on all by yourself”

John huffs “you wouldn’t”

He raised in eyebrow

_Is that a challenge_

The boy pressed his hips up, rolling them slowly, distracting Arthur from their conversation, an innocent gleam in his eyes.

Arthur ground his hips down in reciprocation, pressing him down into the bedroll while John moved back to his previous menstrations, getting the man before him naked.

He undid the rest of the buttons and pulled his shirt off, tossing it to the side. Eager hands explored warm tan skin, feeling each curved muscle, the dusted hair all over his chest and abdomen. Arthur was a work of art. I greek sculpture of excellence and beauty. The ones he only got to see in Dutch’s books. 

Arthur let his hands roam, enjoying how such weathered hands could be so gentle. He wasn’t used to being touched like this. He was used to a punch or rough grabbing and burly men trying hard to throw him to the ground. The feeling of skin on his without any intention to hurt or cause damage was new but very welcomed 

He eventually pulled himself back and undid John’s union suit the rest of the way, pulling it off of his body. John gripped the bedroll by his sides, averting his eyes, his cheeks sporting a deep crimson that crept down his neck and chest 

His breathing became shaky and uneven, anxiety rippling through him as Arthur continued to stare at his body. What if he wasn’t big enough for his liking? What if Arthur was disappointed at how thin he was or what if he found the way his hips curved much too womanly for him?

Arthur sucked in a breath “look at you...”

Calloused hands slid down his heaving chest, thumbing at the perky nipples, moving lower to grab firmly at his waist, fitting perfectly

“ _Goddamn_ Johnny” his voice was ragged and rough, strained almost. He grabbed at his hips harder. Squeezed. His attention moving to his leaking cock, a puddle of precum pooling just below his belly button and the sparse dark hairs there. He was throbbing with anticipation

“So pretty…” he mumbled, taking in every inch of him 

John squirmed under his gaze. Wanting to hide, cover himself, distract him, _anything_ to get Arthur to stop his staring

The man above him only smirked “Do you like that? Bein’ called pretty?”

He nodded quickly, trying to push his hips up, desperate to get some friction. 

_Anything at all_.

Arthur however was having none of it, he kept a firm hold on his hips with one hand, rendering him useless and pinned to the bedroll while he reached down with his other and palmed himself through his jeans, a breathy moan leaving his lips

“Fuck you look so perfect. You gonna be good for me Marston?”

The boy only whined, his dick twitching at his words. Arthur took notice and smirked devilishly 

“Tell me. Let me hear you say it”

“I-I’ll be good Arthur. Promise. Just please touch me!” he was practically begging, his voice cracking with the desperation of it, heels digging into his bedroll, fighting to keep his hips from bucking up into the air

“Take my pants off” 

As soon as the hand on his hip was removed, John sat up, undoing his pants as fast as he could, shoving them down to his thighs. Arthur’s hard cock springing free, bouncing slightly between his legs 

John’s throat ran dry. How the _hell_ was that supposed to fit.

Arthur was thick and heavy, long with the slightest upwards angle. _Perfect_

The butterflies in his stomach seemed to grow restless, fluttering around and making his hands shake with fear? Nervousness? Excitement?

Arthur, upon realizing his hesitation, cupped his cheek as gently as possible, tilting his head up so he was looking into his eyes. A vast sea staring back at brown desert irises.

“We don’t have to do this if you aren’t ready”

“No i’m ready...I just… How is-” he scrunched his face, not sure how to word his question “You ain’t gonna fit”

Arthur chuckled, loud and open, a beautiful sound to John’s ears if it wasn’t aimed at him 

“Yes it will. I’ll be gentle with you alright? You just focus on staying relaxed”

He pulled his pants off the rest of the way, tossing them into some corner of the lantern lit tent

John watched him eagerly, taking deep breaths as he laid back once more, Arthur’s body moving over his, his cock pressing against the tip of John’s as he canted his hips down just slightly, letting the boy get a feel for it.

Arthur did it again and again, setting a nice rhythm of his hips, rolling slowly, letting John feel all of it

_Oh boy did he feel it_

He felt every inch of Arthur against him

He grabbed at the older’s shoulders, moaning at the slightest touch he was given. Arthur’s mind was clouded and hazy, getting lost in the sounds of his voice, the shaking of his hands, the feeling of them sliding against one another, their spend mixing together against John’s belly, making the slide slick and heavenly.

Arthur ground his hips down rougher, leaning down, leaving bruising bites along his collarbones, trailing softer kisses to his ear 

“ ‘M gonna make you feel so good. Gonna fuck you properly until you can’t remember anything but the way I feel deep inside you” he growled out, nibbling on his earlobe

John squeezed his eyes shut tight, a heat building in his stomach. He tried to hold back but his body was burning, aching and thrumming like a livewire. It was all so much. The way Arthur was speaking to him. The way he felt his cock throb against his own, hot and heady. He couldn’t hold back

“A-Arthur-” he tried to warn him but he wasn’t able to get the words out before he was spilling against Arthur’s cock, body tense, back arched, toes curling. He let out a pitiful cry, his hips weakly thrusting up through his orgasm

Arthur paused when he felt the warm sticky liquid against his skin, pulling back enough to look at the boy below him 

“Did you just…”

“I-Im sorry. I didn’t mean to. I tried to warn you I swear”

This was it. Arthur was going to be disappointed and leave him, put his clothes back on and never talk to him again. The world around him would shatter and fall apart. He would never be able to show his face in camp again from embarrassment. John was waiting for this, waiting for anything but the reaction he ends up getting

Arthur moved his hips back, looking at the mess between their bodies, groaning softly

“Jesus boy” he reached down, sliding his fingers through his seed, bringing his cum covered fingers to John’s lips 

“If you’re gonna make a mess, you’re gonna clean it up”

John hesitated for only a second before his lips wrapped around the thich digits, sucking softly. He had never tasted himself, never got the urge to. But now that he had, he knew it would be on his mind. The sweet and salty taste. It made him feel dirty. 

_Humiliated_.

He craved it.

John wondered vaguely if Arthur would taste the same. That was something for him to find out later he decided. The thought making his dick fill out and ache between his legs all over again

He moaned around the thick fingers, looking up at the man through his lashes, the oil lantern casting shadows against his cheeks, Arthurs slick fingers glinting in the dim light as he slowly pulled off with a wet sound, licking between his fingers, getting every last drop

Arthur watched him closely, studying the way his tongue swirled around his fingers, how eager he was to do anything the man said. He was loving every second of it. He was high on the power he had over the boy. 

His well disciplined demeanor and self control slowly eroding away with each passing second.

He spread John’s legs, pressing one of his spit slick fingers to the boys entrance, rubbing the rim slowly, gauging his reaction

John relaxed, pushing down against him a bit, trying to get more of him

“You done this before?” he smirks at how quickly he was growing accustomed to the gentle push of his finger as he worked it into his hole “Fingered yourself when you got a free moment?”

John nodded, moaning quietly, rocking down onto his finger. 

“You think of me?”

“Every time” the word came out more as a whine, Arthur starting to work in a second finger

“Mmm...tell me darlin’. What do you think about?”

John blushed at the name, something about it making his body tingle “I think about you doin’ it to me instead. F-fucking me with your fingers, with your- Ah!”’ he was interrupted by a new sensation, a drag and a pull, stretching and dragging again. Arthur was stretching him, using scissoring motions with his fingers to work him open on his two fingers

“Keep talking”

“With your cock… I think about what it would feel like for you to be rough with me. Pin me down in the dirt at the back of camp and take what you want even with everyone just a few feet from us”

Arthur hummed “You’re filthy” 

He was starting to get some very clear ideas of what John liked and he loved it. 

“You gonna take all of my cock aren’t you Johnny, prove to me you can handle it?”

“Yes sir” a whisper. Barely audible 

The cowboy bit his lip hard, keeping whatever sounds he was about to make, locked away. “Say that again. Speak up” he growled

“ ‘M gonna take your cock, sir”

“That’s right. Good boy” he praised, rewarding him with a heated kiss, slowly working in a third finger 

John’s hips ground down hard, trying to force Arthur to speed up. He was dizzy with the praise and the way the man was speaking to him. It was driving him mad

 

He was getting used to the pulling and stretching of the much larger fingers, finding a steady rhythm of rolling his hips down onto them when suddenly they were gone, replaced with something _bigger_ and hot to the touch, pressing just barely at his entrance.

It was enough to make him stop, gape up at the man for a moment. He snapped his jaw shut, taking deep, relaxing breaths. 

Arthur positioned his legs around his waist, slowly sliding his palms up and down his thighs, shushing softly

“You’re doing good so far. If I do anything at all that you don’t like, stop me alright?”

His tone was soft, careful, as if he was talking to a spooked horse. The same voice he used when he was comforting John after a nightmare 

It soothed him almost instantly, his shoulders relaxing, breath evening out. He gave a quick nod, letting the man know he was ready.

Arthur continued rubbing his thighs. A distraction. While he pushed in slowly, starting with the tip, gradually working in more, stopping occasionally to let John catch his breath and adjust to the girth.

By the time Arthur was fully seated inside of him, John’s thighs were shaking, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. It was too much. He felt like a was being split in half, filled completely and then some, stuffed tight.

All the while, that sweet gentle cowboy of his was muttering soft praises in his ear. Telling him how he was almost there and that he was doing so well. It made his heart thump wildly in his chest, full of happiness and contentment. 

Arthur waited until he was calm again before pulling out a few inches, slowly pushing back in. It made his head spin.

_Aching. Burning. Stretching._

He pulled out further this time, keeping only his tip inside, it left John feeling empty 

“Beg for it”

“Arthur please! I need it. Need you fillin’ me up. I want to feel you. I’ll do anything ”

Arthur shoved back in, a death grip on the boys poor hips as he seated himself fully once more.

John cried out loudly, a bolt of electricity shooting through his bones, his body quivering, heels digging into the man’s back

A large hand clamped his hand down over his mouth

“Dutch’ll skin me alive if he hears you” he warned but made no move to stop what he was doing

Arthur thrusted in and out a couple more times before he stopped, whining in the back of his throat as he fought to regain his composure, he wanted nothing more than to fuck John senselessly but it was wrong of him. He needed to be careful 

“John..” 

He _begged_ , Nostrils flared as he breathed hard, pupils blown wide with lust

“I ain’t gonna break. Please Arthur I want you”

With that, the last of his self control shattered like glass.

He pulled out and slammed in hard, over and over, skin slapping against skin, absolutely _filthy_ moans spilling from John’s lips with each thrust, sweat beading along their bodies

Arthur’s muscles rippling with the effort, setting a punishing pace with his hips, angling his thrusts to hit that delicious spot deep inside him. John moaned loudly, scratching long, angry, red lines down Arthur’s back, making the man’s hips stutter and his balls tighten

“You’re so goddamn tight”

Loud breathy moans being punched out of him over and over again with each brutal thrust of Arthur’s hips, bringing him closer to the edge of climax for the second time.

Well aware of how loud they were being at this point but both men too blissed out to care.

John was _desperate_ for it. _Needed_ to be filled. _Needed_ Arthur in every sense

“That’s right take my cock sweetheart. You’re doing so well for me. Such a good boy. My good boy”

He growled into his ear, obscenities leaving his mouth before he could even think twice.

“Arthur! Arthur! Arthur!”

Now, Arthur was no religious man but the way John moaned his name sounded like a prayer

John was so far gone, dark raven hair sticking to his forehead, back arched, his breathing heavy. He was _gorgeous_.

Arthur sucked hard at the hollow column of his throat, sinking his teeth into the tender, smooth flesh there. He felt John clench around him and reached down, taking him in his hand. 

He pumped him quickly once, twice, three times and that was all it took for John to cum again, He was seeing stars, his vision blacked out for a second, shouting out as thick, sticky ropes shot onto Arthur’s knuckles and John’s chest, his body tensed up, squeezing tight around Arthur like a vice. 

He wasn’t sure what made him say it, but at that moment he craved it, would do anything to have Arthur spill inside of him, feel his cum _leak_ from his abused hole once he pulled out 

“Cum in me. P-please Arthur cum inside of me!” he pleaded with the last of his energy, voice scratchy and overstimulation starting to set in as his softening dick rubbed in between their two bodies. He grabbed at those soft locks of hair he loved oh so much and yanked _hard_

Arthur gasped, grunting at the tug as he chased after his own orgasm, his thrusts becoming frantic and erratic, John’s words driving him to the edge. His balls tightened and he shoved in deep, burying himself inside the boy as he emptied himself inside, groaning loudly, pumping cum into him.

“Fuck! John”

His thrusts slowed as he came down from his high, his muscular thighs trembling with the effort and power of his orgasm, sweat gleaming on their bodies.

John looked wrecked, his hair matted and a mess smeared onto his stomach, his chest heaving with each intake of air. 

They stayed there for a moment, basking in the afterglow, Arthur soothingly rubbing his sides, whispering quietly to him

“I’m so proud of you. You were amazing darlin’. So good for me just like I knew you would be”

He nuzzled into the boys neck, kissing the new bruises he left before he sat up, carefully pulling out.

John hissed at the feeling, his hole clenching around nothing. It felt strange and empty, making him miss the feeling of the other man already.

Arthur shuffled around in their pile of clothes before grabbing a his bandana from his pants pocket. He wiped the mess on John’s chest and belly clean before moving between his thighs.

He carefully pushed the seed that leaked from him back inside with him thumb, wiping up the rest with the bandana.

John sighed contently, closing his eyes as he let Arthur take care of him. Already starting to feel the aching of his body, exhaustion taking over

Once they were both cleaned off, the older outlaw laid down beside John, pulling him close. 

The boy smiled, resting his head on his chest “Thank you”

“There’s no need to thank me”

He was given a soft kiss to his forehead “get some sleep. You’re really gonna need it come tomorrow”

John snuggled in closer, already half asleep 

“I love you John”

He said softly, still wondering if now was the right time

“Love you too” came a sleepy mumble before John was out like a light, dead weight against Arthur’s body 

They fell asleep in eachothers arms, feeling happier than ever, their hearts warm and sated, full of love and gratification.


End file.
